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Eighteenth  Century 



IVith  illustrations   ^ 
from  contemporary  prints 



fCbe  Uliteritfibe  "^xtii  Cambribge 





COPYRIGHT,    1014,    BY    WILLIAM    KDWAKI)    MKAD 

tCji:     ; 


DEC -b  1914 

•CI.A  387985 


K.  C.  M. 

JVho  makes  every  journey  a  joy 


The  subject  presented  in  the  following  pages  has  been 
strangely  neglected;  for  until  recent  years  there  has  been 
little  attempt  to  treat  comprehensively  and  in  detail  one  of 
the  most  significant  chapters  in  the  social  history  of  England 
in  the  eighteenth  and  earlier  centuries  —  the  tour  in  foreign 
countries  for  the  sake  of  education.  The  materials  are 
abundant,  —  indeed,  embarrassingly  so,  —  but  they  have 
never  been  systematically  utilized.  As  a  rule,  the  whole 
matter  has  been  disposed  of  by  historians  in  a  paragraph 
or  two.  The  more  detailed  studies  have  mainly  dealt  with 
the  sixteenth  and  early  seventeenth  centuries.  M.  Babcau's 
delightful  sketch  of  Lcs  Voyageurs  en  France  covers  about 
three  centuries,  but  is  limited  to  a  discussion  of  travel  in  one 
country.  Yet  few  things  had  a  more  far-reaching  influence 
upon  the  life  and  thought  of  Englishmen  than  the  grand 
tour,  which  permitted  them  in  the  most  impressionable 
period  of  their  lives  to  survey  other  lands,  other  types  of 
society  and  government,  and  to  carry  home  something  of 
the  best  —  and  too  often  of  the  worst  —  that  the  Continent 
had  to  offer. 

In  a  subject  so  limitless  in  its  possible  range  there  is 
obviously  much  for  which  we  cannot  afford  the  space.  The 
original  intention  was  to  trace  the  growth  of  English  travel 
on  the  Continent  from  the  time  of  the  Revival  of  Learning 
to  the  outbreak  of  the  French  Revolution.  But  owing  to 
the  appearance  of  Mr.  Bates's  Touring  in  1600  this  extensive 
programme  was  modified  to  deal,  in  the  main,  with  the  grand 
tour  in  the  latter  half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  with  an 
occasional  glance  at  the  travel  of  an  earlier  generati(Mi.  It 
is,  perhaps,  hardly  necessary  to  remark  that  the  present 
book  is  in  no  sense  a  systematic  guide  to  eighteenth-century 
Europe,  and  that  it  attempts  no  extended  account  of  any  of 



the  countries  visited  on  the  grand  tour.  In  so  far  as  places 
are  mentioned  or  described,  they  are  included  because  they 
mark  important  points  on  the  routes  commonly  followed 
and  illustrate  what  eighteenth-century  tourists  saw,  but  of 
course  not  all  that  they  saw. 

To  write  about  the  grand  tour  is,  indeed,  very  much  like 
writing  about  things  in  general,  since  there  is  an  endless 
multitude  of  possible  topics  to  be  included.  Practical  neces- 
sity compels  the  exclusion  of  material  which  is  in  itself  both 
interesting  and  suggestive,  but  which,  if  presented  in  de- 
tail, would  obscure  the  features  essential  to  a  comprehensive 
survey.  For  this  reason  we  must  limit  our  view  to  the  re- 
gions chiefly  visited  on  the  grand  tour  —  France,  Italy,  Ger- 
many, and  the  Low  Countries,  with  a  mere  glance  at  Spain 
and  Switzerland  and  other  parts  of  Europe.  But  Denmark, 
Norway,  Sweden,  Russia,  Hungary,  Greece,  Turkey  do  not 
come  into  our  plan,  not  because  they  were  in  themselves 
unimportant  in  the  eighteenth  century,  but  because  they 
were  less  commonly  visited  by  English  tourists  than  some 
other  parts  of  Europe.  There  is,  moreover,  in  this  rapid 
sketch  little  attempt  to  dwell  upon  places  of  secondary  inter- 
est, but  emphasis  is  laid  upon  the  most  representative  cities 
on  the  great  routes.  For  our  purpose  the  towns  of  the 
Continent  are  significant  only  in  proportion  as  they  at- 
tracted English  tourists. 

As  for  the  materials  used  in  the  preparation  of  this  book, 
some  of  them  are  enumerated  in  a  bibliographical  note.  But 
it  may  not  be  improper  to  remark  that  in  repeated  journeys 
and  a  residence  of  several  years  on  the  Continent  I  have 
become  familiar  with  practically  every  important  place 
visited  on  the  grand  tour  and  have  endeavored  by  actual 
observation  of  old  roads  and  mountain  passes  to  realize  the 
conditions  under  which  one  traveled  in  the  generation  pre- 
ceding the  French  Revolution.  Amid  the  wilderness  of 
error  that  abounds  in  the  older  books  of  travel,  I  cannot 
safely  pretend  in  every  case  to  have  hit  upon  the  exact 
truth,  but  at  all  events  I  have  not  deliberately  aimed  to 
increase  the  mass  of  misinformation  already  in  print. 



In  conclusion,  I  offer  my  sincere  thanks  to  the  officials  of 
libraries  in  this  country  and  abroad  for  the  facilities  which 
they  have  generously  placed  at  my  disposal,  and  without 
which  this  book  would  be  far  more  imperfect  than  it  now  is. 
To  my  colleague,  Professor  George  M.  Dutcher,  I  am  much 
indebted  for  a  revision  of  the  second  chapter;  to  Mr.  Archi- 
bald Cattell,  of  Chicago,  for  a  careful  reading  of  the  proof 
sheets ;  and  to  my  wife  for  proof-reading  and  aid  in  preparing 
the  index. 

In  view  of  the  great  war  that  is  now  devastating  Europe, 
it  is  important  to  note  that  the  corrected  page  proofs  of  the 
present  book  were  returned  to  the  printers  a  few  days  before 
the  outbreak  of  hostilities. 

W.  E.  M. 

October  i,  1914. 


I.  Introductory i 

II.  Europe  before  the  French  Revolution  5 

III.  Water  Travel 

I.    the  ENGLISH  CHANNEL          ...  29 

II.    FRANCE 32 



V.    HOLLAND   AND   BELGIUM          •           •           •  39 

IV.  Roads 

I.  Introductory    .        .        ...        .  43 




V.  THE  LOW  COUNTRIES  .     .     .     .  5 1 

V.  Carriages 

I.  FRANCE 52 

II.  ITALY 61 


IV.  THE  LOW  COUNTRIES    .     .     .     -12 

VI.  Inns 

I.  Introductory 75 

II.    FRENCH   INNS 78 


IV.  INNS   IN   GERMANY           ....  95 

V.  THE   INNS    OF  THE   LOW   COUNTRIES             .  lOO 

VII.  The  Tourist  and  the  Tutor     .        .        ,  103 



VIII.  Some  Dangers  and  Annoyances   .        .        .140 

IX.  The  Cost  of  Travel  .        .        .        ,170 

X.  The  Continental  Tour:  France  and  Spain  207 

XI.  Switzerland  and  the  Mountains     .        .      255 

XII.  Italy 269 

XIII.  Germany      .        .        .        .        .        .        .      335 

XIV.  The  Low  Countries 364 

XV.  Contemporary  Comment  on  the  Grand  Tour  375 

Bibliographical  Note 463 

Index 471 


The  Amphitheater  at  Arles  after  the  Removal 
of  most  of  the  houses  from  the  enclosure 
(p.  243) Frontispiece 

From  an  old  engraving. 

A  French  Port 30 

After  a  painting  by  Joseph  Vernet.  From  "Institutions, 
Usages  and  Customs  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,''  by  Paul 
La  Croix 

The  Grand  Tournament  of  the  Boatmen  of  Paris 
IN    1 75 1,    between    Pont-au-change   and    Pont 

Notre-Dame 32 

From  an  Eighteenth- Century  print. 

The  Water  Journey  from  Padua  to  Venice  — 
The  Remulcio  towing  the  Burcello  .        .    34 

From  Edward  Wright's  "Observations,"  1730. 

A    Ferry  on  the  Po 36 

From  Edward  Wright's  "Observations,"  1730. 

On  a  Dutch  Canal  in  Winter       .        .        .        .40 

From  "Holland,"  by  Nico  Jungman. 

A  Diligence 54 

From  "La  Locomotion,"  by  0.  Uzanne. 

The  Duomo  and  the  Baptistery,  Pistoia      .        .110 
From  a  photograph. 

An  Interrupted  Journey 144 

From  "Les  Brigands,"  by  Franz  Funck-Brentano. 

A  Collection  of  Ancient  Artistic  Treasures     .  204 

From  Samuel  Foote's  "Dramatic  Works." 


Crowning  the  Bust  of  Voltaire  at  the  Theatre 

pRANgAis  IN  1778 216 

From  "  Letters,  Sciences  and  Arts  in  the  Eighteenth  Century" 
by  Paul  La  Croix. 

London  in  Holiday  Attire  —  The  Lord  Mayor's 
Procession 218 

From  Hogarth's  Industry  and  Idleness,  1747. 

The  Gardens  and  West  Front  of  the  Palace 
OF  the  Tuileries  at  the  End  of  the  Eight- 
eenth Century ^  222 

From  "  Travels  from  Hamburg  to  Paris,''  by  Thomas  Holer  oft. 

South  Side  of  the  Roman  Triumphal  Arch  at 
Orange,  dedicated  to  the  Emperor  Tiberius   .  242 

From  a  photograph  in  the  Boston  Public  Library. 

Roman  Temple  —  The  Maison  Carree  at  NImes  .  244 
From  a  photograph  in  the  Boston  Public  Library. 

Regatta  on  the  Grand  Canal,  Venice         .        .  294 

From  a  photograph  in  the  Boston  Public  Library  of  a  paint- 
ing by  Antonio  Canaletto 

Mausoleum  of  Theodoric  at  Ravenna         .        .  332 

From  a  photograph. 

Towing  a  Vessel  up  the  Rhine  —  the  Town  and 
Castle  of  Hammerstein  in  the  Background    .  354 

From  "  The  Rhine,"  by  Thomas  Cogan. 

The  Old  Town  and  Canal - 

-  Hamburg 

.  360 

From  a  photograph. 

A  Macaroni 

•        •        • 

.  396 

From  "English  Costume,"  by  George  Church. 

The  Coliseum 400 

From  a  print  by  Piranesi  in  the  second  half  of  the  Eight- 
eenth Century. 





It  is  hardly  necessary  to  remark  that  extensive  foreign 
travel  was  nothing  new  to  Englishmen  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  Journeys  to  Rome  were  not  uncommon  in  the 
time  of  Bede,  and,  as  Chaucer  incidentally  remarks,  the 
long  and  hazardous  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem  was  thrice 
accomplished  by  the  Wife  of  Bath,  who  unquestionably 
had  no  lack  of  companions.  Many  women  before  the  four- 
teenth century  had  actually  made  that  journey.  The  pil- 
grimage to  Compostella  in  Spain  was  made  by  vast  throngs 
in  the  Middle  Ages.  Voyages  of  discovery  in  all  parts  of 
the  world  had  already  become  common  in  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth.  Migration  to  America  took  tens  of  thousands 
of  colonists  across  the  Atlantic  in  the  seventeenth  century. 

In  comparison  with  these  perilous  ocean  voyages  the 
tour  of  the  Continent  of  Europe,  though  by  no  means  easy 
or  entirely  free  from  danger,  was  a  mere  pleasure  trip, 
and  Englishmen  of  rank  had  long  been  accustomed  to 
make  it.  Mr.  Sidney  Lee  well  says:  "The  value  of 
foreign  travel  as  a  means  of  education  was  never  better 
understood,  in  spite  of  rudimentary  means  of  locomotion, 
than  by  the  upper  classes  of  Elizabethan  England.  All 
who  drank  deep  of  the  new  culture  had  seen  the  wonders 
of  the  world  abroad."  ^  In  another  place  he  remarks: 
"Throughout  the  century  young  Englishmen  of  good  fam- 
ily invariably  completed  their  education  in  foreign  travel 
and  by  attendance  at  a  foreign  university.  In  many  quar- 
ters the  practice  was  deemed  to  be  perilous  to  the  students' 



religion  and  morals.  The  foundation  of  Trinity  College, 
Dublin,  in  1592,  was  justified  on  the  ground  'that  many 
of  our  people  have  usually  heretofore  used  to  travel  into 
France,  Italy,  and  Spain,  to  get  learning  in  such  foreign 
universities,  whereby  they  have  been  infected  with  popery 
and  other  ill  qualities.'^  But  the  usage  of  youthful  pere- 
grination was  barely  affected  by  such  suspicions.  The 
young  Englishman's  educational  tour  often  extended  to 
Italy  and  Germany  as  well  as  to  France,  but  France  was 
rarely  omitted,  and  many  youths  confined  their  excursions 
to  French  territory."  ^ 

After  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  the  stream  of  travel  to  for- 
eign parts,  in  spite  of  occasional  interruption  by  Conti- 
nental wars,  continued  to  flow ;  and  what  came  to  be  known 
as  "the  grand  tour"  ^  attained  in  the  eighteenth  century 
a  more  widely  diffused  popularity  than  it  had  ever  before 
known.  Ever  since  the  Renaissance  the  tide  of  travel  — 
particularly  to  Italy  —  from  various  countries  of  Europe 
had  ebbed  and  flowed.  But  in  the  eighteenth  century 
what  had  been  a  few  generations  earlier  a  matter  of  extreme 
difficulty,  and  even  danger,  became  relatively  easy.  An- 
noyance and  privation  might  still  be  expected  here  and 
there,  but  not  in  sufficient  measure  to  deter  one  in  tolerable 
health  from  the  undertaking. 

This  growing  interest  of  Englishmen  in  foreign  countries, 
especially  France  and  Italy  and  the  Low  Countries,  and, 
to  some  degree,  Germany,  was  due  to  a  multitude  of  causes : 
to  the  centering  of  attention  upon  the  Continent  by  the 
War  of  the  Spanish  Succession  and  other  conflicts,  to 
the  popularity  of  French  fashions  notwithstanding  the 
traditional  hostility  to  France,  to  the  greater  perfection 
of  means  of  transportation,  to  the  increase  of  foreign  com- 
merce, to  the  rapidly  growing  wealth  and  broadening  out- 
look of  Englishmen,  and  to  the  multitudinous  attractions 
of  the  Continent  —  social,  artistic,  architectural,  literary, 
historical  —  which  were  sufficient  to  draw  tourists  of  every 
taste,  whether  for  enlarging  their  stock  of  knowledge  or  for 
mere  pleasure. 



The  grand  tour  was,  at  least  in  intention,  not  merely  a 
pleasurable  round  of  travel,  but  an  indispensable  form  of 
education  for  young  men  in  the  higher  ranks  of  society. 
When  made  in  approved  fashion,  in  the  company  of  a 
competent  tutor,  the  grand  tour  meant  a  carefully  planned 
journey  through  France  and  Italy  and  a  return  journey 
through  Germany  and  the  Low  Countries.  It  was  com- 
monly necessary,  on  the  way  to  or  from  Italy,  to  cross  a 
portion  of  Switzerland,  or  at  least  some  of  the  mountains 
belonging  to  the  Alpine  chains,  but  this  part  of  the  journey, 
in  so  far  as  the  mountains  were  concerned,  was  regarded 
as  a  disagreeable  necessity.  Such  a  tour  usually  required 
three  years.  Multitudes  of  independent  travelers,  un- 
hampered by  a  tutor  or  by  anything  besides  their  ignorance, 
of  course  visited  the  Continent  without  attempting  the 
conventional  round,  and  many  pupils  traveling  with  a 
tutor  spent  no  more  than  a  year  or  two  abroad,  but  the 
allowance  of  three  years  was  not  too  long  for  a  leisurely 
survey  of  the  principal  countries  and  for  getting  some  prac- 
tical acquaintance  with  foreign  languages. 

Those  who  traveled  abroad  belonged,  as  a  rule,  just  as 
was  the  case  in  the  sixteenth  century,  to  a  picked  class, 
and  with  their  aristocratic  temper,  their  wealth,  and  their 
insular  characteristics,  they  presented,  along  with  marked 
individual  differences,  a  well-defined  tourist  type.  The 
traits  of  successive  generations  of  English  travelers  upon 
the  Continent  were  early  combined  to  form  the  well- 
known  Englishman  of  the  Continental  stage  —  a  carica- 
ture, indeed,  but  one  reproducing  many  features  drawn 
from  life.  Even  in  our  time  the  old  type  is  not  altogether 
extinct,  and  may  be  occasionally  encountered  in  a  railway 
carriage  or  at  a  mountain  inn,  but  it  is  daily  becoming 
more  rare. 

Our  main  theme  is,  then,  the  touring  of  Englishmen  upon 
the  Continent  of  Europe  in  the  eighteenth  century.  Prac- 
tical considerations  of  space,  as  well  as  the  actual  practice 
of  all  but  an  insignificant  fraction  of  tourists,  compel  us 
to  limit  our  view  to  France,  Switzerland,  Italy,  Germany, 



the  Low  Countries.  But  this  limitation  has  the  advantage 
of  permitting  us  to  view  in  more  detail  the  field  that  we 
undertake  to  survey. 

We  must  not  forget  in  any  part  of  this  discussion  that 
not  merely  in  England  but  throughout  Europe  the  tutorial 
system  was  the  generally  approved  method  for  the  educa- 
tion of  young  men  of  qualit}'',  and  that  what  was  in  all 
essentials  the  grand  tour  was  made  under  the  guidance  of 
a  traveling  tutor  by  the  scions  of  noble  families  of  France, 
Germany,  Holland,  and  other  countries  of  Europe.  Travel 
was  regarded  as  an  essential  finish  of  one's  edi^cation, 
whether  one  traveled  alone  or  with  a  tutor.  The  fashion 
of  travel  once  established,  it  often  tempted  men,  and  even 
women,  of  mature  years  to  undertake  extended  journeys. 
The  itinerary,  of  course,  varied  somewhat  according  to 
personal  tastes  and  special  needs,  but  in  general  the  regions 
visited  by  tourists  bom  on  the  Continent  were  substantially 
the  same  as  those  that  attracted  Englishmen. 

We  see,  then,  that  wide  travel  for  education  or  for  pleas- 
ure was  in  no  sense  peculiar  to  Englishmen,  —  although  as 
a  class  they  were  best  able  to  aflord  the  expense,  —  but 
rather  a  conformity  on  their  part  to  a  practice  that  had 
become  traditional  among  the  upper  classes  of  Europe  — 
"that  noble  and  ancient  custom  of  traveling,  a  custom  so 
\'isibly  tending  to  enrich  the  mind  with  knowledge,  to  rec- 
tify the  judgment,  to  remove  the  prejudices  of  education, 
to  compose  the  outward  manners,  and  in  a  word  to  form 
the  complete  gentleman."  ^ 



From  what  has  already  been  said,  it  is  clear  that  the 
grand  tour,  with  all  that  it  impHes,  forms  an  important 
chapter  in  the  history  of  European  culture,  and  that  it 
must  be  studied  from  that  point  of  view  if  it  is  to  be  more 
than  a  merely  curious  record  of  travel  in  foreign  countries. 
Taken  in  the  broadest  sense,  the  grand  tour  includes  every- 
thing that  one  might  see  or  hear  in  the  course  of  long-con- 
tinued travel.  But  as  such  an  extension  of  the  meaning 
would  lay  upon  us  an  impossible  task,  we  must  in  the  study 
before  us  impose  some  well-defined  limitations. 

It  is  obviously  no  part  of  our  duty  to  review  in  detail  the 
complicated  history  of  Europe  in  the  eighteenth  century. 
We  are  concerned  with  the  course  of  events  on  the  Continent 
only  in  so  far  as  they  affected  the  tourist.  But  a  clear 
understanding  of  a  few  fundamental  facts  is  imperative. 
Most  important  is  it  to  bear  in  mind  that  participation  by 
the  common  people  in  the  work  of  government  was  rela- 
tively slight  in  nearly  every  country  of  the  Continent,  and 
only  to  a  moderate  degree  permitted  in  England.  Minor 
offices  might  be  filled  by  persons  of  no  importance,  and  in 
some  cases  men  of  humble  origin  rose  to  positions  of  great 
influence,  but  the  policy  of  the  government,  the  final  deci- 
sion in  every  matter  that  might  affect  the  welfare  of  the 
ruling  class  as  well  as  of  the  uncounted  multitude,  was 
commonly  reserved  for  the  supreme  ruler.  It  is  true  that 
despotism  became  less  harsh  with  each  succeeding  genera- 
tion, but  in  theory  it  was  hampered  by  few  restrictions. 
The  ruler,  with  his  broad  vision  of  the  needs  of  his  people, 
was  expected  to  govern  as  a  wise  father  governs  his  family. 



Their  interests  were  supposed  to  be  his.  If  the  ruler  was 
both  wise  and  good,  the  people  prospered;  but  in  any 
case  they  were  expected  to  accept  without  murmuring  the 
decisions  of  their  betters. 

As  may  be  inferred,  the  mass  of  the  population  through- 
out Europe  was  made  up  of  plain  and  simple  folk.  For 
the  most  part  they  were  occupied  with  agriculture  and 
lived  a  very  humble  Hfe.  Cities  were  relatively,  as  well  as 
actually,  far  smaller  than  they  are  to-day.^  Manufac- 
turing was  attempted  on  a  small  scale,  particularly  after 
the  Seven  Years'  War,  but  at  best  it  was  insignificarft  and 
in  general  not  greatly  encouraged.  As  a  result,  trade  and 
commerce  lacked  incentive,  and,  moreover,  suffered  under 
the  burden  of  numberless  regulations  due  to  narrow  preju- 
dice and  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  laws  governing  national 
wealth.  Widespread  poverty  characterized  the  greater  part 
of  Europe. 

Particularly  notable,  too,  as  a  result  of  the  universal  ac- 
ceptance of  the  doctrine  of  the  "Balance  of  Power,"  was 
the  division  of  large  portions  of  Europe  among  nations 
that  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  organic  historical  develop- 
ment of  the  regions  they  appropriated.  Such  was  espe- 
cially the  case  in  Italy. 

Into  the  life  of  the  eighteenth  century  came  the  fearful 
upheaval  of  the  French  Revolution,  which  marks  a  turn- 
ing-point in  the  history  of  every  country  of  western  Europe. 
The  minds  of  men  were  themselves  transformed  —  that 
was  the  Revolution.  A  thousand  conceptions,  social  and 
political,  that  had  seemed  established  for  ever  were  at 
length  shattered  under  the  long-continued  assaults  of 
philosophers  and  political  theorists,  and  systems  of  govern- 
ment that  under  manifold  differences  in  externals  were 
alike  in  exalting  the  personal  will  of  the  ruler  were  sooner 
or  later  greatly  modified.  In  some  cases,  as  in  France,  the 
change  in  institutions  was  immediate  and  sweeping;  in 
others,  as  in  Germany  and  Italy,  the  transformation  was 
more  gradual ;  but  in  all,  the  old  state  of  things  was  doomed. 

The  thirty  years  or  so  just  preceding  the  Revolution  are 



those  that  most  concern  us  in  this  study,  though  we  shall 
often  have  occasion  to  look  back  to  the  early  eighteenth 
century  —  and  sometimes  to  the  seventeenth. 

To  reaHze  the  conditions  under  which  men  lived  in  the 
eighteenth  century  is  not  easy.  There  are,  indeed,  only 
three  or  four  generations  between  us  and  the  gay  throngs 
that  crowded  the  salons  of  Paris  before  the  Revolution. 
But  the  eighteenth  century,  notwithstanding  its  nearness  in 
time,  and  the  immense  mass  of  information  that  we  have 
about  it,  appears  strangely  remote,  separated  from  us  as 
it  is  by  the  great  gulf  of  the  French  Revolution.  The  cen- 
tury of  which  men  still  vigorous  have  known  many  living 
representatives  impresses  us  as  markedly  different  in  tem- 
per and  point  of  view  from  our  own.  In  a  thousand  ways 
the  difference  forces  itself  upon  even  the  most  careless 
observer  —  in  the  forms  of  government,  in  the  rigid  struc- 
ture of  society,  in  the  fashions  of  dress,  in  the  popular 
amusements,  in  the  lack  of  facilities  for  travel  and  com- 
munication —  in  short,  in  all  those  particulars  which  dis- 
tinguish the  old,  unprogressive  regime  with  its  numberless 
feudal  survivals  from  our  own  bustling,  democratic  age. 

Looking  at  the  matter  from  one  point  of  view  we  may 
say  that  there  is  no  side  of  eighteenth-century  life  that 
might  not  in  some  way  affect  the  tourist,  but  for  our  purpose 
the  problem  is  much  simpler.  We  need  to  know  something 
of  the  political  systems  of  the  countries  visited  on  the 
grand  tour,  for  to  those  systems  were  due  many  of  the 
restrictions  laid  upon  the  tourist.  We  need  to  know  the 
times  when  peace  prevailed,  for,  obviously,  while  there  is 
war  the  average  man  will  not  undertake  a  tour,  but  will 
remain  safely  at  home.  We  need  to  know  of  the  means  of 
travel,  of  the  state  of  the  roads  and  where  they  ran,  of  the 
inns  and  how  one  fared  in  them,  of  fashionable  society  and 
how  it  impressed  the  tourist,  as  well  as  the  impression  the 
tourist  made  upon  society :  in  short,  in  so  far  as  is  possible 
in  a  book  that  must  touch  many  things  lightly  if  at  all, 
we  must  endeavor  to  follow  the  tourist  from  place  to  place 
and  see  with  him  some  of  the  sights  that  most  interested 



him.  In  this  way  we  may  be  able  in  some  degree  to  estimate 
the  value  of  the  grand  tour  as  a  means  of  culture. 

Besides  all  this,  it  is  worth  while  to  note  that  the  eight- 
eenth century,  particularly  during  the  first  half,  was  a 
time  of  depression  in  poetry  and  art  and  architecture,  and 
that  for  a  time  it  appeared  to  be  at  a  standstill  in  all  moral 
and  religious  progress.  But  there  was,  nevertheless,  in 
almost  every  field  of  human  activity  a  new  spirit  stirring 
which  wrought  an  amazing  change  before  the  century  came 
to  an  end. 

In  view  of  the  immensity  of  the  field,  it  is  obvious  that 
to  trace  in  any  considerable  detail  the  differences  between 
the  old  time  and  the  new  would  involve  a  review  of  the 
social  history  of  Europe  from  the  time  of  Louis  XIV  to  the 
present,  and  to  do  that  here  is,  of  course,  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. We  can,  however,  glance  at  the  three  or  four  countries 
that  most  attracted  the  English  tourist  and  form  some 
conception  of  the  general  conditions  under  which  one  trav- 
eled in  the  eighteenth  century. 

Of  all  these  countries  we  must  in  some  measure  reshape 
our  modem  notions  if  we  are  to  understand  what  the 
grand  tour  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  really  meant. 
Obviously,  each  country  presented  some  features  not  ex- 
actly paralleled  elsewhere,  and  the  most  characteristic  of 
these  we  must  try  to  realize.  But  we  must  remember  that, 
owing  to  the  complexity  and  variety  of  the  facts  and  the 
frequent  changes  in  details  of  administration,  a  general 
statement  must  ignore  many  minor  details,  and  in  some 
cases  must  be  taken  as  a  mere  approximation  to  the  truth. 


As  a  preliminary  to  our  later  study  we  may  well  glance 
for  a  moment  at  eighteenth-century  England,  and  then  at 
the  countries  commonly  visited  on  the  grand  tour.  Until 
the  last  decade  or  two  England  has  been  a  synonym  for 
conservatism.  But  how  different  in  a  thousand  ways  is 
the  England  of  our  time  from  that  of  a  century  and  a  half 



ago !  In  comparison  with  the  England  that  we  know,  eight- 
eenth-century England  was  markedly  provincial  and  insu- 
lar. Until  far  beyond  the  middle  of  the  century,  English- 
men, though  always  ambitious  and  aggressive,  had  not 
enlarged  their  conceptions  to  the  point  of  making  England 
the  center  of  a  world-power.  But  they  felt  with  reason 
that  their  country  was  the  most  favored  land  in  Europe, 
and  everywhere  they  went  they  instinctively  claimed  pre- 

One  inestimable  advantage  they  had  enjoyed  for  nearly 
three  centuries.  Although  since  the  close  of  the  Middle 
Ages  almost  every  part  of  the  Continent  had  been  a  bat- 
tlefield, England,  with  the  exception  of  the  Puritan  uprising 
and  the  futile  attempts  to  restore  the  line  of  the  Stuarts, 
had  been  free  from  war  upon  her  own  soil.  And  by  her 
fortunate  insular  situation  she  was  practically  secure  against 
attack  from  the  Continent.  The  period  since  the  Revolu- 
tion of  1688  had  been  marked  by  increasing  material  pros- 
perity, which  had  diffused  habits  of  expensive  living  and 
stimulated  the  desire  to  see  life  in  other  lands.  Not  every- 
thing was  perfect  in  eighteenth-century  England.  Great 
inequalities  prevailed.  Parliament  was  unreformed.  Social 
conditions  among  the  lower  classes  were  pitiful.  But  while 
there  were  vice  and  brutality  and  misery  in  eighteenth- 
century  England,  as  everywhere  else,  nowhere  in  Europe 
was  a  man  freer  to  live  his  own  life  and  to  express  his  own 
views  on  society,  politics,  or  religion. 

Another  fact  worthy  of  note  is  that  the  country  was 
not  overpopiilated.  In  1750,  England  and  Wales  counted 
6,400,000  inhabitants,  and  not  until  the  end  of  the  century 
did  the  population  rise  to  9,000,000.  London  in  the  middle 
of  the  eighteenth  century  had  something  like  600,000  in- 
habitants, —  no  insignificant  number,  it  is  true,  but  not 
so  large  as  to  preclude  a  man  in  society  from  the  possibility 
of  knowing  almost  everybody  of  importance.  Naturally, 
then,  society  was  more  a  unit  than  it  is  to-day.  Men  of 
the  upper  social  class  had  about  the  same  education  — 
not  too  thorough,  but  including  a  tolerable  acquaintance 



with  Latin  and  some  knowledge  of  Greek.  Every  one  who 
wished  to  shine  in  society  spent  a  part  of  his  time  in  Lon- 
don, usually  gamed  a  little  at  one  of  the  fashionable  clubs, 
and  from  the  men  of  his  own  class  took  in  the  opinions 
generally  accepted  on  politics,  morals,  and  religion. 

A  man  in  such  a  circle  who  had  not  seen  Paris,  to  say 
nothing  of  The  Hague,  the  Rhine,  and,  above  all,  Venice 
and  Florence  and  Rome,  could  not  aspire  to  be  a  leader  of 
fashionable  society.  Something  provincial,  some  lack  of 
savoir-faire,  would  inevitably  betray  him.  Sooner  or  later 
the  spell  of  Italy  or  France  would  be  upon  him,  and  woisild 
lead  him  to  the  places  that  he  must  himself  see  if  he  would 
be  in  a  real  sense  a  man  of  the  world  and  in  keeping  with 
the  society  in  which  he  moved. 


Nearest  to  England  in  point  of  distance  was  France,  the 
leader  of  the  fashions  of  Europe  and  the  greatest  rival  of 
England  in  every  part  of  the  world.  English  commercial 
and  colonial  expansion  more  than  once  brought  the  two 
nations  into  conflict  in  the  course  of  the  century.  Eight- 
eenth-century France,  just  before  the  Revolution,  occupied 
a  slightly  larger  territory  than  the  present  Republic.^  She 
had  not  yet  gained  Savoy  and  Nice,  but  she  had  not  yet 
lost  Alsace  and  she  had  acquired  Lorraine  in  1766. 

Of  the  condition  of  France  before  the  Revolution  there 
is  so  much  that  might  be  said  that  any  brief  generalization 
is  hazardous,  for  there  had  come  down  from  the  Middle 
Ages  multitudes  of  anomalous  special  privileges  reserved 
for  the  upper  classes,  and  in  this  rapid  summary  we  can 
touch  only  on  matters  that  are  most  typical  and  character- 
istic.'^  But  a  rapid  glance  at  the  main  features  is  imperative. 

France  presented  a  strildng  contrast  to  England  in  gov- 
ernment, in  religion,  in  the  structure  of  society,  in  habits  of 
living,  in  manners,  in  dress,  —  in  short,  in  a  thousand  details 
that  make  up  the  greater  part  of  everyday  existence.  More- 
over, France,  taken  by  herself,  was  full  of  contradictory  ele- 



ments.  Standing  as  she  did  in  the  forefront  of  civilization; 
boasting  the  most  brilliant  philosophers  and  men  of  letters 
in  Europe,  her  life  was  throttled  by  a  system  of  government 
that  was  daily  becoming  more  inadequate  to  the  demands 
of  the  time. 

Notable,  indeed,  were  the  differences  between  the  gov- 
ernment of  France  and  that  of  England.  The  centralizing 
policy  of  Louis  XIV  had  gradually  brought  France  under 
a  system  of  administration  that  deprived  the  provinces  of 
political  power  and  made  the  king's  will  supreme.^  A 
powerful  minister  might  relieve  the  king  of  the  burden 
of  multiplied  administrative  detail,  and  even  usurp  au- 
thority, but  in  effect  the  king  was  responsible.  Yet, 
though  nominally  absolute,  he  was  in  practice  restrained 
by  a  host  of  precedents  and  usages,  surviving  from  the 
days  of  feudalism. 

This  centralized  authority  was  in  many  particulars  sadly 
inefficient  and  could  not  be  bettered  without  a  radical 
reform  from  top  to  bottom.  The  regulation  of  the  finances 
was  subject  to  continual  alteration,  but  the  sporadic  change 
resulted  chiefly  in  making  administration  more  difficult. 
No  head  of  government,  however  honest  his  intentions, 
could  bring  harmony  and  justice  out  of  the  tangled  con- 
fusion of  laws  that  had  accumulated  in  France.  Bureau- 
cratic and  cumbrous  in  its  machinery,  the  government  was 
at  the  same  time  lavish  and  niggardly.  It  poured  out  money 
like  water  at  Versailles  and  often  begrudged  the  most  neces- 
sary expenditures  in  the  provinces.  Between  1763  and 
1789  the  national  debt  enormously  increased.  Dishonesty 
in  handling  public  money  was  common.  Too  often,  not 
merit  but  favor  brought  advancement. 

Moreover,  the  administration  of  government  was  med- 
dlesome in  the  extreme  and  constantly  interfering  in  the 
smallest  matters.  This  officiousness  was  the  more  exasper- 
ating because  apparently  irrational  and,  in  any  case,  not 
applied  to  all  classes  alike.  Under  the  old  regime  France 
was  doubtless  in  many  respects  a  paradise,  but  only  for  the 
chosen  few.^ 



Next  to  the  king  stood  at  the  head  of  the  social  order  the 
clergy  and  the  nobility.  They  formed  the  privileged  classes 
and  were  in  the  main  exempt  from  public  burdens,^  though 
they  owned  two  fifths  of  all  the  land  in  France.  In  fact, 
if  we  exclude  the  public  domain  from  the  estimate,  their 
possessions  amounted  to  "one  half  of  the  Kingdom."  ^  The 
clergy  and  the  nobles  numbered  but  a  thirtieth  part  of  the 
twenty-six  millions  in  France,  but  they  enjoyed  an  enor- 
mous proportion  of  the  income  of  the  nation.  Not  only 
did  the  clergy  hold  vast  estates,  but  they  also  exacted  tithes, 
as  was  their  right,  and  received,  moreover,  a  considerable 
annual  income  from  voluntary  offerings  and  bequests. 
Without  question,  the  Church  of  France  in  the  eighteenth 
century  was,  all  in  all,  an  institution  of  incalculable  benefi- 
cence as  well  as  of  great  splendor.  But  luxury  had  deadened 
the  zeal  of  earlier  days,  and  too  often  the  Church  served 
as  a  convenient  means  of  providing  well-paid  sinecures  for 
the  younger  sons  of  noble  families. 

In  many  parts  of  France  the  Church  had  estranged  its 
natural  adherents  and  even  embittered  its  own  servants. 
Although  it  possessed  vast  estates  and  enabled  the  great 
dignitaries  to  live  like  princes,  the  minor  clergy  were  sadly 
underpaid,  and  in  many  cases  lived  little  better  than  the 
impoverished  and  starving  people  that  they  served.  In 
eighteenth-century  England  there  was,  before  the  great 
religious  awakening  of  the  middle  of  the  century,  a  prevail- 
ing indifference  to  spiritual  things.  But  there  was  no  such 
popular  hostility  to  the  clergy  as  was  common  in  France; 
for,  particularly  after  the  great  religious  revival,  the  Eng- 
lish clergy  took  a  genuine  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  poor; 
whereas  in  France  the  higher  clergy  appeared  chiefly  con- 
cerned to  exact  their  tithes  and  to  turn  over  their  routine 
duties  to  ill-paid  curates. 

As  for  the  French  nobility,  they  had  long  since  lost  most 
of  the  political  power  they  once  possessed  as  a  natural 
right  in  their  own  districts;  and  unless  kept  at  home  by 
poverty,  they  had,  with  few  exceptions,  given  up  living 
upon  their  estates  for  the  greater  part  of  the  year  and 



yielded  to  the  attraction  that  drew  all  France  to  Paris  and 
the  court  of  the  king  at  Versailles.^  In  their  absence  their 
estates  were  managed  by  agents,  who  too  often  were  un- 
scrupulous and  merciless. 

But  although  as  a  class  they  had  lost  political  power, 
the  nobility  enjoyed  many  special  privileges  and  had  vast 
influence  at  court  and  on  the  administration  of  govern- 
ment. Theirs  was  an  unquestioned  social  position.  They 
secured  in  the  army  and  in  the  fleet  the  choicest  places, 
which  gave  them  large  revenues  and  little  to  do.  Some  of 
the  higher  nobles  had  vast  incomes  from  their  estates  and 
lived  in  extravagant  luxury.  But  the  nobility  almost 
wholly  escaped  taxation.^  They  were  free  from  the  burden 
of  the  corvees,  of  compulsory  military  service,  and  of  hav- 
ing soldiers  quartered  upon  them.  They  had  the  privilege 
of  selling  their  wine  in  the  market  thirty  or  forty  days 
before  the  peasant;  they  could  pasture  their  cattle  in  the 
meadows  of  the  peasant ;  they  could  keep  a  host  of  pigeons 
that  devoured  the  peasant's  grain  while  he  dared  not  kill 
or  take  them;  they  could  claim  a  certain  proportion  of 
the  peasant's  grain  or  wine  or  fruit;  and  they  could  compel 
him  to  use  the  seignorial  oven  for  baking  his  bread. ^  These 
survivals  in  the  eighteenth  century  appeared  increasingly 
irrational,  since  what  had  given  rise  to  the  privileges  was 
no  longer  in  existence.  In  short,  as  De  Tocqueville  re- 
marks: "France  was  the  only  country  in  which  the  feudal 
system  had  preserved  its  injurious  and  irritating  charac- 
teristics, while  it  had  lost  all  those  which  were  beneficial 
or  useful."  * 

Moreover,  admission  to  the  ranks  and  privileges  of  the 
nobility  could  be  secured  by  men  of  wealth  who  had  no 
ancestral  claims.  This  upstart  aristocracy  was  despised 
by  the  ancient  noblesse  and  doubly  hated  by  the  toiling 
masses.  In  England  the  aristocracy  was  one  of  the  strong- 
est bulwarks  of  the  constitution  and  of  the  social  order: 
in  France  it  was  a  constant  source  of  irritation  and  disHke 
and  an  invitation  to  revolution. 
Below  the  privileged  classes  was  the  great  third  estate, 



comprising  the  merchants,  the  members  of  the  learned  pro- 
fessions, multitudes  of  men  of  letters,  and,  of  course,  all  the 
peasantry,  as  well  as  all  the  working-classes  in  the  towns. 
The  members  of  the  third  estate  were  in  many  cases  as 
wealthy,  as  learned,  as  polished  in  manners,  as  the  members 
of  the  favored  classes,  but  they  were  not  permitted  to 
share  in  the  privileges  and  exemptions  reserved  by  law  for 
the  clergy  and  the  nobility.  And  as  for  the  peasants  and 
artisans,  they  were,  in  the  main,  simply  ignored,  even  by 
multitudes  of  those  who  themselves  were  counted  as  be- 
longing to  the  third  estate.  ^ 

Upon  the  poorer  classes  of  France  the  burdens  of  exist- 
ence pressed  heavily.  Throughout  the  country  the  lot  of 
the  peasantry  was  pitiful,  even  though  the  serfdom  of 
central  and  eastern  Europe  was  practically  unknown. 
Upon  them  fell  the  duty  of  keeping  themselves  and  their 
families  alive,  while  at  the  same  time  they  carried  the  load 
of  taxation  from  which  the  privileged  upper  classes  were 
mainly  exempt.  With  no  opportunity  for  self -improve- 
ment they  became  sodden  and  hopeless.  It  is  true  that 
many  French  peasants,  by  thrift  and  incessant  toil,  had 
accumulated  considerable  wealth,  particularly  in  land,  but 
they  were  none  the  less  subjected  to  trivial  yet  exasper- 
ating annoyances  that  reminded  them  of  their  lack  of 
legal  equality  with  their  titled  neighbors,  who  were  some- 
times poorer  than  themselves.  The  country  districts  were 
shamefully  neglected  by  the  government,  which  drained 
them  of  money  and  of  men  and  gave  little  or  nothing  in 

Many  of  the  towns,  we  may  note,  were  relatively  pros- 
perous, particularly  in  the  generation  just  preceding  the 
Revolution,  but  the  small  villages  and  rural  hamlets  were 
too  often  wretched  collections  of  filthy  hovels  occupied  by 
half -starved  peasants,  brutalized  by  want  and  by  excessive 

How  all  this  affected  the  tourist  is  obvious.  He  found 
little  to  attract  him  to  the  country  districts,  where  the 
miserable  condition  of  the  peasantry  made  comfort  difficult 



to  secure,  and  he  moved  from  town  to  town  with  as  little 
delay  as  possible  along  the  route.  And  whether  in  town  or 
country  he  could  not  help  reaHzing  that  something  was  out 
of  joint.  Keen  observers,  like  Chesterfield,  already  foresaw 

Yet  the  thirty  or  forty  years  before  1789  —  the  very 
years  that  most  concern  us  —  were  far  more  prosperous 
than  the  first  half  of  the  century,  and  had  there  been  a  more 
efficient  administration  of  government  and  a  more  equit- 
able'distribution  of  the  burdens  of  public  life,  it  is  possible 
that  France  would  have  escaped  the  horrors  of  the  Revo- 
lution, as  England  herself  did. 

But  the  average  English  tourist  was  no  prophet  nor  a 
very  competent  judge  of  the  significance  of  what  he  saw. 
With  the  less  attractive  sides  of  French  life  and  official 
administration  he  inevitably  came  more  or  less  in  contact 
as  he  journeyed  across  country,  but,  unless  he  was  a  trained 
observer  like  Arthur  Young,  he  noted  only  incidental  de- 
fects, and  those  mainly  as  they  affected  his  personal  com- 
fort. Of  the  deep  discontent  that  smouldered  in  every 
part  of  France  he  hardly  suspected  the  existence,  and  he 
regarded  the  schemes  for  social  reform,  so  popular  in  the 
salons,  chiefly  as  entertaining  speculations  that  must  not 
be  taken  too  seriously.  The  gHtter  and  the  gayety  of 
French  society  bHnded  his  eyes.  But  most  of  the  world 
was  blind  in  those  days,  and  he  was  but  a  passing  stranger. 


Of  all  the  countries  visited  on  the  grand  tour,  the  con- 
dition of  Italy  was,  from  many  points  of  view,  the  least 
enviable.  Her  decline  was  the  favorite  topic  of  eighteenth- 
century  tourists  and  poets.  There  had,  indeed,  been  a  sad 
falling-off  since  her  days  of  ancient  greatness.  In  the  time 
of  the  Roman  Empire  Italy  had  been  the  recognized  leader 
of  the  world,  but  when  the  barbarian  invasions  over- 
whelmed the  Empire  the  country  became  the  successive 
prey  of  the  strongest.    The  brilliant  period  of  the  Renais- 



sance  made  Italy  for  a  time  the  chief  center  of  European 
culture  and  art.  But  war  from  without  and  dissension 
from  within  had  long  before  the  eighteenth  century  im- 
poverished the  land  and  left  it  weak  and  divided.  Says 
the  historian  of  Piedmont:  "What  Italy  really  attained 
during  the  latter  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  not 
happiness,  but  cessation  from  suffering;  there  was  not 
actual  progress  in  Italy,  but  only  a  stay  in  her  decline."  ^ 
Spain  and  France  and  Austria  for  generations  regarded 
Italy  as  a  mere  pawn  upon  the  chessboard  —  a  mere  make- 
weight to  aid  in  adjusting  the  "Balance  of  Power." 

After  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  France  in  her 
own  name  figured  little  in  Italian  affairs  in  comparison 
with  Spain,  but  the  so-called  Spanish  Bourbons,  who  ruled 
a  large  part  of  Italy  in  the  eighteenth  century,  were  of 
course  really  French ;  and  French  ideas  and  French  fashions 
never  ceased  to  exert  a  marked  influence  in  the  peninsula. 
Throughout  the  seventeenth  century  the  greatest  power 
in  Italy  was  Spain,  which,  indeed,  maintained  peace,  but 
hampered  industry  and  individual  initiative  by  narrow- 
minded  and  absurd  interference.  Early  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  as  a  result  of  the  war  of  the  Spanish  Succession, 
Austria  forged  to  the  front  in  Italy  and  assumed  the  lead- 
ing political  r61e. 

It  is  needless  to  remark  that  as  yet  Italian  unity  was 
hardly  a  dream,  and  that  Italy  as  such  had  no  voice  in  the 
councils  that  parceled  out  her  territory  among  foreign  rulers. 
This  very  fact  makes  difficiilt  a  clear  understanding  of 
political  conditions  below  the  surface  in  Italy  in  the  eight- 
eenth century,  since  the  changes  in  boundaries  and  in 
masters  were  made  without  reference  to  the  desires  of  the 
people  and  the  interests  of  the  country,  and  hence  without 
reference  to  the  organic  development  of  the  national  life. 
Whereas  in  French  or  English  history  the  sequence  of 
events  can  be  traced  in  something  like  logical  order,  the 
thread  of  Italian  history  is  so  tangled  that  one  has  difficulty 
in  following  any  line  for  a  great  distance.  Where  unity  is 
lacking,  there  can  be  no  strict  sequence. 



Into  the  details  of  history  we  cannot  here  enter,  but  we 
must  glance  for  a  moment  at  the  most  important  territorial 
readjustments  that  were  made  in  the  course  of  the  first 
half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  though  we  must  remember 
that  it  is  not  easy  to  make  a  compact  statement  covering 
all  the  details. 

The  one  fact  of  greatest  moment  is  that  the  Italian  penin- 
sula, with  its  population  of  fourteen  millions,^  had  no  cen- 
tral dominating  government,  but  was  split  up  among  many 
different  sovereignties.  Between  1700  and  1750  foiur  trea- 
ties were  made  which  transferred  large  portions  of  Italian 
territory  from  one  European  power  to  another.  The  first 
treaty  was  that  of  Utrecht  in  17 13,  at  the  close  of  the  War 
of  the  Spanish  Succession.  This  transferred  the  Kingdom 
of  Naples,  which  had  been  Spanish  since  1504,  from  Spain 
to  Austria;  Sardinia  from  Spain  to  Austria;  Sicily  from 
Spain  to  Savoy;  and  the  Duchy  of  Milan  from  Spain  to 
Austria,  In  1720  a  partial  readjustment  was  made  by  an 
agreement  between  Savoy  and  Austria  to  exchange  Sicily 
and  Sardinia.  This  had  for  Austria  the  advantage  of  giv- 
ing her  sovereignty  over  the  adjacent  regions  of  Naples  and 
Sicily.  In  1 73  8  the  Peace  of  Vienna  brought  about  extensive 
changes.  Austria  relinquished  the  Kingdom  of  Naples  and 
Sicily  and  other  bits  of  Italian  territory  to  the  Spanish 
Bourbons  and  in  her  turn  received  Parma  and  Piacenza, 
whose  last  Farnese  duke  had  died  in  173 1.  At  the  same 
time,  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Tuscany  was  confirmed  to 
Francis  Stephen,  Duke  of  Lorraine.  He  had  married 
Maria  Theresa  of  Austria  in  1736;  and  hence  Tuscany  be- 
came to  all  intents  an  Austrian  possession.  But  in  1765 
their  son  Peter  Leopold  was  made  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany, 
and  he  niled  here  with  practical  independency  of  Austria 
until  his  election  as  Emperor  in  1790.  As  a  minor  matter 
we  may  add  that  early  in  the  eighteenth  century  the 
Duchy  of  Mantua  became  a  dependency  of  Austria  and 
was  made  a  part  of  Austrian  Lombardy.  Lastly,  we  note 
that,  in  1748,  at  the  close  of  the  War  of  the  Austrian  Suc- 
cession, Parma  and  Piacenza  were  given  to  a  Bourbon 



prince,  and  some  portions  of  the  Duchy  of  Milan  were 
ceded  to  the  Kingdom  of  Sardinia. 

Besides  the  states  under  foreii::n  domination  there  were 
others  that  maintained  their  independence.  The  States 
of  the  Church  stretched  from  the  RepubHc  of  Venice  to 
the  Kingdom  of  Naples  and  recognized  no  master  but  the 
Holy  Father.  The  Duchy  of  Modena  had  little  power,  but 
it  was  undisturbed  b}'  outside  aggression.  In  the  midst 
of  the  Papal  domain  the  tiny  medieval  Republic  of  San 
Marino  preserved  its  liberty  in  its  mountain  nest.  The 
little  oligarchy  of  Lucca  kept  its  autonomy  as  it  had  long 
done.  The  two  republics  of  Genoa  and  Venice  had  sadly 
declined,  but  in  their  decrepitude  they  still  cherished  their 
great  past  and  continued  to  drag  out  a  sluggish  existence. 
In  the  extreme  northwest,  Savoy  and  Piedmont  had  suc- 
ceeded for  centuries  in  malcing  headway  against  the  powers 
that  had  taken  possession  of  much  of  the  peninsula.  When 
Sardinia  was  exchanged  for  Sicily  in  1720,  the  Kingdom  of 
Sardinia  was  founded,  and  included  the  island  of  Sardinia, 
the  Duchy  of  Savoy,  and  the  Principality  of  Piedmont. 
Later  additions  of  territory  slightly  increased  the  strength 
of  the  kingdom,  which  was  destined  in  the  course  of  time  to 
become  the  dominant  power  in  the  Kingdom  of  Italy  and 
to  bring  about  the  union  of  all  the  scattered  sovereignties 
in  the  Italian  peninsula.  The  French  Revolution,  followed 
by  Bonaparte's  invasion  in  1796,  brought  an  end  to  many 
of  the  complicated  arrangements  here  outlined,  but  wath 
the  later  history  we  cannot  now  deal. 

In  the  forty  years  before  the  French  Revolution  Italy 
was  in  the  main  free  from  commotions,  though  neighboring 
states  had  "  an  aversion  for  each  other  .  .  .  often  increased 
to  a  marked  hatred  and  contempt.  The  Genoese,  Floren- 
tines, Neapolitans,  and  Romans,"  we  read,  "foster  so 
great  an  odium  against  each  other  as  was  never  manifested 
between  the  English  and  French."  *  The  rulers  of  the 
separate  states  were  despotic,  as  was  the  case  all  over  the 
Continent,  but  some  of  them  made  considerable  effort  to 
improve  agriculture  and  industry,  particularly  in  the  north- 



em  half  of  the  peninsula,  and  to  put  the  public  finances 
upon  a  sounder  basis.  Notably  in  Milan  and  in  Tuscany 
the  incoming  of  Austrian  rule  brought  a  far  greater  pros- 
perity than  had  been  known  for  generations.  But,  as  a 
result  of  the  excessive  subdivision  of  the  territory  of  Italy, 
we  can  easily  see  that  foreign  trade  and  international  in- 
tercourse of  every  sort  would  be  greatly  hampered  by  the 
ordinary  and  inevitable  eighteenth-century  formalities  at 
the  frontiers  and  at  city  gates.  Moreover,  it  is  obvious 
that  a  country  so  divided  could  have  no  collective  national 
life  or  spirit.  Throughout  the  greater  part  of  Italy,  par- 
ticipation in  political  life  was  for  most  men,  of  whatever 
rank,  an  impossibility.  Practically  all  that  was  left  was  to 
take  up  with  some  occupation  of  an  obviously  harmless 

Under  the  conditions  existing  everywhere  in  Italy  no 
man  could  take  pride  in  the  name  of  Italian.  He  might  be 
a  member  of  an  ancient  and  wealthy  family,  but,  shut  out 
as  he  was  from  an  active  career  and  disdaining  any  useful 
occupation,  he  was  likely  to  become  an  amateur  in  art  or 
music  —  to  spend  his  days  and  his  nights  in  dancing  at- 
tendance upon  some  woman  who  could  never  be  his  wife, 
and  to  fritter  away  his  energy  in  inane  social  follies.  Civili- 
zation in  some  parts  of  Italy,  particularly  in  the  southern 
half,  seems  to  have  been  a  thin  veneer  over  ill-concealed 
barbarism,  due  to  causes  of  remote  origin.  Even  in  the 
middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  "in  Romagna  and  the 
Marches  .  .  .  the  blood-feud  was  custom  of  the  country, 
greatly  enhanced  by  long  years  of  Papal  misrule."  ^ 

Still,  in  spite  of  all  drawbacks,  portions  of  the  northern 
half  of  Italy,  particularly  Tuscany  ^  and  Lombardy,  were 
measurably  prosperous.  In  comparison  with  these  regions 
the  southern  half  of  the  peninsula  presented  a  marked 
contrast.  Speaking  broadly,  poverty  increased  in  propor- 
tion as  one  proceeded  down  through  the  States  of  the 
Church  into  the  regions  of  the  extreme  South.  A  sober  in- 
vestigator like  Tivaroni  says  ^  that  in  the  Roman  territory 
there  were  no  manufactures  and  no  agriculturists.     The 



poor  of  Rome  lived  upon  the  fragments  that  fell  from  the 
tables  of  fifteen  or  twenty  thousand  rich  foreigners  who 
spent  the  winter  there,  —  upon  the  cardinals,  the  Papal 
court  and  the  Roman  princes.^  Says  an  English  traveler 
in  1741:  "Viterbo,  Montefiascone,  Ronciglione,  and  the 
rest  of  the  towns  we  passed  through  are  all  in  the  same 
miserable  condition,  tho'  in  a  pleasant  and  fruitful  country: 
We  saw  ruinous  houses  and  poor  people,  with  fine  churches, 
rich  clergy,  and  fat  convents."  ^  Of  Rome  itself  the  same 
writer  says:  "This  City,  which  was  once  the  mistress  of 
all  the  riches  of  the  then  known  world,  is  now  so».poor,  that, 
to  change  a  pistole  in  a  shop,  you  must  buy  half  the  value 
in  goods,  and  take  the  rest  in  several  bank  notes,  each  of 
the  value  of  half  a  crown  sterling."  ^  He  adds,  with  some 
extravagance,  "  It  is  very  probable  that  in  a  few  years  both 
the  town  itself  and  all  the  neighborhood  may  be  perfectly 
void  of  inhabitants,  and,  like  the  former  Babylon,  only  a 
haunt  of  monsters  and  beasts  of  prey."  ^ 

In  the  Kingdom  of  the  Two  Sicilies,  the  great  minister 
Tanucci  had  brought  about  notable  reforms,  but  the  social 
conditions  throughout  the  country  districts  were  substan- 
tially those  of  feudal  times.  The  peasantry  were  not  only 
desperately  poor,  but  they  were  illiterate,  superstitious, 
hopeless,  and  such  they  continued  to  be  throughout  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  even  long  after.  More  than  one 
fourth  of  the  population  were  ecclesiastics,  who  had  gath- 
ered up  a  large  proportion  of  the  wealth  of  the  country  into 
their  own  hands. 

Even  in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century  a  brilliant 
historian  points  out  in  enumerating  the  reforms  that  were 
urgently  needed:  "In  no  country  of  Europe  was  this 
triple  revolution  more  lamentably  overdue  than  in  Naples, 
where  the  tyranny,  uncontrolled  through  long  centuries,  of 
priest,  of  noble,  and  latterly  of  king,  had  left  marks  of 
devastation  not  only  on  the  welfare  of  a  few  passing  genera- 
tions, but  deep  in  the  national  character  itself.  ..."  Re- 
ferring to  "the  hill  towns  of  southern  Italy,"  he  continues, 
"In  those  miserable  abodes  of  fear,  poverty,  and  supersti- 



tion,  the  Dark  Ages  were  prolonged  down  to  the  end  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  it  was  there  that  the  character  of 
the  NeapoHtan  people  was  moulded."  * 

Other  features  of  Italian  life  will  receive  attention  in  the 
proper  place,  but  this  rapid  sketch  is  sufficient  to  make 
clear  the  general  condition  of  the  country  that  the  tourist 
had  to  traverse. 


Very  different  from  France,  and  yet  in  all  ranks  of  polite 
society  the  persistent  imitator  of  everything  French,  was 
Germany.  The  well-informed  man  of  to-day  naturally 
thinks  of  Germany  as  the  greatest  military  power  in  the 
world,  as  the  home  of  the  most  advanced  scholarship,  and 
as  the  formidable  commercial  rival  of  England.  Far  lower 
in  the  eighteenth  century  was  the  international  reputation 
of  Germany.  All  through  the  period  we  are  examining, 
Germany  was  not  a  compact  nation,  but  a  bewildering  con- 
geries of  disunited  kingdoms  and  electorates  and  princi- 
palities and  free  cities,  with  one  portion  —  the  Electorate 
of  Brandenburg  —  gradually  rising  to  preeminence  as  the 
new  Kingdom  of  Prussia. 

There  is,  indeed,  no  more  confused  and  complicated 
history  when  taken  in  detail  than  that  of  Germany,  for 
where  there  is  no  unity  there  can  be  no  clearly  defined 
policy  and  no  general  continuity  of  growth.  With  the 
historical  development  of  Germany  we  cannot  here  deal. 
We  have  rather  to  endeavor  to  form  some  conception  of 
what  was  connoted  by  the  term  "Germany"  in  the  eight- 
eenth century  and  to  indicate  the  type  of  civilization  it 

In  the  Middle  Ages,  Germany  held  a  commanding  posi- 
tion among  the  nations  of  Europe,  with  wealthy  cities  like 
Lubeck  and  Hamburg  and  Cologne  and  Nuremberg  and 
Augsburg  and  Frankfort  and  Mainz  and  Strassburg  and 
Breslau.  But  Germany  at  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth 
century  had  long  been  declining.  The  Reformation  and 
the  animosities  it  engendered  rent  the  Empire  in  twain 



and  left  a  heritage  of  strife  that  made  Germany  a  battle- 
field for  a  generation.  Since  the  Middle  Ages  no  greater 
calamity  fell  upon  any  European  nation  than  came  to 
Germany  with  the  Thirty  Years*  War.  The  ruin  of  great 
and  flourishing  cities,  the  destruction  of  ancient  festivals 
and  quaint  customs,  the  brutalizing  of  the  rural  population 
throughout  a  generation  of  strife,  all  this  left  its  mark 
upon  the  Germany  that  travelers  visited  in  the  eighteenth 

Following  the  Thirty  Years'  War  came  the  ravaging  of 
the  Palatinate  in  1688,  the  War  of  the  Spanish  Succes- 
sion, and  the  Seven  Years'  War.  In  these  wars  much  of 
the  earlier  brutality  continued.  Prosperous  and  beautiful 
German  cities  were  laid  in  ashes  and  countless  villages 
made  uninhabitable. 

Already  in  the  seventeenth  century  progress  was  sadly 
arrested.  Public  spirit  and  public  opinion  almost  died 
out.  Bureaucrats  and  pedants  held  full  sway.  It  was  the 
day  of  small  men  and  small  things.  Great  centers  of 
present-day  industry,  like  Solingen,  Essen,  Krefeld,  Elber- 
feld.  Barmen,  were  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  cen- 
turies too  insignificant  to  deserve  mention. 

Even  late  in  the  eighteenth  century  a  semi-medieval 
character  pervaded  the  atmosphere  of  Germany.  The 
nobles,  particularly  in  the  Rhine  districts,  were  too  poor 
to  keep  up  their  ancient  splendor,  but  they  cherished  all 
their  surviving  privileges  and  looked  with  contempt  upon 
the  peasantry.  Throughout  the  Empire  the  laboring  classes 
were  in  a  far  worse  condition  than  in  France.  "The  dwell- 
ers on  the  estates  of  the  Prussian  nobility  in  Silesia  and 
Bra,ndenburg  were  treated  no  better  than  negro  slaves  in 
America  and  the  West  Indies.  They  were  not  allowed  to 
leave  their  villages,  or  to  marry  without  their  lords'  con- 
sent; their  children  had  to  serve  in  the  lords'  families  for 
several  years  at  a  nominal  wage,  and  they  themselves  had 
to  labour  at  least  three  days,  and  often  six  days,  a  week 
on  their  lords'  estate.  These  corvees  or  forced  labours 
occupied  so  much  of  the  peasant's  time  that  he  could  only 



cultivate  his  own  farm  by  moonlight.  This  state  of  abso- 
lute serfdom  was  general  in  Central  and  Eastern  Europe, 
in  the  greater  part  of  Germany,  in  Poland  and  in  Russia, 
and  where  it  existed  the  artisan  class  was  equally  depressed, 
for  no  man  was  allowed  to  learn  a  trade  without  his  lord's 
permission,  and  an  escaped  serf  had  no  chance  of  admission 
into  the  trade-guilds  of  the  cities.  Towards  the  west  a 
more  advanced  civilization  improved  the  condition  of  the 
labourers;  the  Italian  peasant  and  the  German  peasant  on 
the  Rhine  had  obtained  freedom  to  marry  without  his  lord's 
interference;  but,  nevertheless,  it  was  a  prince  of  western 
Germany,  the  Landgrave  of  Hcsse-Cassel,  who  sold  his 
subjects  to  England  to  serve  as  mercenaries  in  the  American 
War  of  Independence.  In  France  the  peasant  was  far 
better  off."  i 

Besides  all  this,  there  was  everywhere  prevalent  in  Ger- 
many a  narrow  spirit  of  particularism,  an  inability  to  see 
the  world  from  any  other  point  of  view  than  that  of  one's 
own  limited  district.  Taken  as  a  whole,  Germany  was  inert 
and  unprogressive,  feudal  in  spirit  and  practice,  and  every- 
where divided  against  itself.  Even  where  neighboring  states 
lived  peaceably  side  by  side,  as  for  the  most  part  they  did, 
there  was  marked  lack  of  interest  in  one  another's  welfare, 
and  a  lack  of  concerted  effort  toward  a  common  end. 

And  this  contracted,  illiberal  spirit  is  precisely  what 
might  have  been  expected  from  the  rulers  and  the  subjects 
of  the  petty  states  that  constituted  the  moribund  German 
Empire.  Already,  before  the  dawn  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, the  Empire,  with  its  ten  circles,  —  including  some 
three  hundred  separate  states,  of  which  fifty-one  were  free 
cities,  —  was  little  more  than  a  name.  "Properly,  indeed, 
it  was  no  longer  an  Empire  at  all,  but  a  Confederation,  and 
that  of  the  lowest  sort.  For  it  had  no  common  treasury, 
inefficient  common  tribunals,  no  means  of  coercing  a  re- 
fractory member;  its  states  were  of  different  religions, 
were  governed  according  to  different  forms,  were  adminis- 
tered judicially  and  financially  without  any  regard  to  each 
other."  2 



Since  the  Thirty  Years'  War  the  Empire  had  so  lost  all 
directive  power  that  it  left  the  rulers  of  diminutive  states 
to  govern  unchecked  by  imperial  restraint.  These  minor 
despots  were  in  some  cases  well  disposed  and  capable,  but 
too  often  they  were  destitute  of  German  spirit  and  were 
chiefly  bent  upon  maldng  their  courts  tawdry  copies  of  the 
splendors  of  Versailles. 

Out  of  this  crowd  of  feeble  little  states,  long  overshadowed 
by  the  great  House  of  Hapsburg,  Prussia  emerged  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  from  being  merely  the  Electorate 
of  Brandenburg  became  the  powerful  Kingdom  of  Pn;ssia. 
But  although  the  genius  of  Frederick  the  Great  had  won 
for  Prussia  a  foremost  place  in  Europe,  Germany  as  a 
whole  counted  for  little  beside  France  and  England.  The 
greatest  rival  of  Prussia  was  Austria.  For  generations  the 
House  of  Hapsburg,  while  ruling  Austria,  had  at  the  same 
time  stood  at  the  head  of  the  German  Empire.  For  a  brief 
interval  (1742-45)  the  Elector  of  Bavaria  had  held  the 
dignity  of  Emperor,  but  at  his  death  it  was  immediately 
given  to  Francis  I,  the  husband  of  Maria  Theresa,  and  after 
him  to  Joseph  II.  With  the  enfeebled  German  Empire, 
however,  we  need  not  longer  concern  ourselves,  for  its 
days  of  usefulness  were  past  and  its  end  was  near.  But  the 
Austrian  monarchy  had  a  vigorous  though  troubled  life, 
and  ranked  as  one  of  the  greatest  powers  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  In  the  course  of  the  eighteenth  century  Austria 
lost  and  gained  territory,  but  she  gained  more  than  she 
lost.  In  1772,  Austria  shared  with  Russia  and  Prussia  in 
the  dismemberment  of  Poland.  In  Italy  Austria  held  the 
Duchies  of  Milan  and  Mantua  and  the  Principality  of 
Castiglione;  and  a  member  of  the  Lorraine  branch  of  the 
House  of  Austria  was  the  ruler  of  Tuscany.  In  the  Low 
Countries  the  Catholic  provinces  —  substantially  the  mod- 
em Belgium,  —  were  under  Austrian  sovereignty. 

Beyond  question  these  were  great  and  important  posses- 
sions. But  the  most  marked  characteristic  of  Austria  as 
contrasted  with  France  was  that  it  was  not  a  compact  and 
homogeneous  country  inhabited  by  a  people  speaking  the 



same  language.  France,  indeed,  harbored  in  Brittany  a 
picturesque  race  that  cherished  its  ancient  speech  and  tra- 
ditions, but  the  Bretons  were  among  the  most  loyal  sup- 
porters of  the  throne.  Austria,  on  the  other  hand,  con- 
sisted of  a  group  of  provinces  with  little  in  common  except 
dependence  upon  the  ruling  Hapsburg  monarch.  The 
dominant  German  clement  cherished  ideals  very  different 
from  those  of  the  Magyars,  the  Slavonians,  the  Ruman- 
ians, the  Italians,  who  were  continually  struggling  to  ad- 
vance their  own  interests.  Various  languages,  various 
political  institutions,  various  customs,  various  religions, 
made  real  unity  impossible  and  engendered  constant 
jealousies  and  sometimes  open  strife.  So  slight  was 
the  bond  uniting  the  Austrian  provinces  that,  as  is 
still  the  case,  the  personal  qualities  of  the  ruler  were 
of  great  importance  in  holding  together  the  disparate 

It  is  to  be  noted,  too,  that  far  more  than  in  France  and 
the  Rhine  region  of  Germany  had  the  spirit  of  medievalism 
survived  in  Austria.  The  aristocracy  still  enjoyed  many 
odious  class  privileges  and  raised  their  heads  high  above  the 
miserable  common  people.  The  peasants  were  bound  to 
the  soil  and  forced  to  labor  for  the  aristocratic  landowners 
as  a  compensation  for  the  privilege  of  being  allowed  to 
exist.  They  were  not  even  free  to  marry  without  the 
approval  of  their  masters.  In  Hungary,  in  Bohemia,  in 
Silesia,  in  Moravia  there  was,  throughout  the  eighteenth 
century,  a  growing  discontent  and  a  more  insistent  longing 
for  a  diminution  of  the  heavy  feudal  burdens. 

Maria  Theresa,  and  far  more  in  his  turn  the  restless 
Joseph  II,  had  to  some  extent  succeeded  in  carrying  through 
the  most  pressing  social  reforms,  such,  for  example,  as  the 
abolition  of  serfdom,  and  the  imposition  of  taxes  upon  the 
nobles.  The  zeal  of  Joseph  II  would  have  forced  a  host  of 
sweeping  changes  upon  his  people,  but  he  could  not  over- 
come the  inertia  of  centuries,  and  at  length,  prematurely 
worn  out  and  bitterly  disappointed  by  his  many  failures, 
he  died  in  1790. 



Everything  considered,  Austria  in  the  eighteenth  century 
was  in  a  very  backward  state.  Education  was  sadly  neg- 
lected. Illiteracy  was  general  among  the  lower  classes. 
Manners  were  brutal.  Immorality  was  rife  in  all  ranks  of 
society.  Free-thinking  was  popular  in  the  upper  classes  and 
superstition  pervaded  the  untutored  peasantry.  For  the 
tourist  there  was  in  Austria  little  that  was  attractive  out- 
side the  cities.  These  were  united  by  an  extensive  system 
of  roads,  which,  on  the  great  lines  of  travel,  were  main- 
tained by  the  centralized  government  in  condition  far 
better  than  was  the  case  in  the  petty  states  of  what^we 
now  call  Germany. 


Upon  the  other  portions  of  Europe  we  need  not  long  de- 
lay. Switzerland,  securely  placed  in  the  center  of  the  Con- 
tinent, took  no  recognized  part  in  the  affairs  of  Europe, 
and  was  permitted  to  work  out  its  destiny  undisturbed. 
Great  wealth  was  unknown,  and  simplicity  of  living  was 
the  rule.  Some  of  the  mountain  districts  afforded  a  very 
scanty  subsistence,  but  the  country  as  a  whole  was  reason- 
ably well-to-do  and  contented,  and  some  cities,  such  as  Basel 
and  Geneva,  enjoyed  remarkable  prosperity. 

In  the  northwest  comer  of  the  Continent  were  situated 
the  Low  Countries  —  the  seven  Dutch  provinces  that  we 
collectively  call  Holland,  from  the  name  of  the  most  im- 
portant, and  the  Austrian  Netherlands.  The  story  of  the 
rise  of  the  Dutch'  RepubHc  is  one  of  the  marvels  of  the 
history  of  Europe.  Throughout  the  seventeenth  century 
the  little  republic  was  extraordinarily  prosperous,  and  her 
merchant  vessels  brought  her  untold  wealth  from  every 
part  of  the  world.  Despite  her  diminutive  size  she  stood 
up  against  the  aggressive  policy  of  France,  for  a  moment 
humiliated  England,  and  took  an  active  part  in  the  War 
of  the  Spanish  Succession.  The  long  strain  of  this  and 
previous  wars  was,  however,  too  severe,  and  except  for 
the  War  of  the  Austrian  Succession  (1740-48)  and  the  brief 
but  unfortunate  naval  war  with  England  just  at  the  close 



of  the  American  Revolution,  the  Dutch  Republic  as  a 
political  power  played  throughout  the  eighteenth  century- 
little  or  no  part  in  shaping  the  destiny  of  Europe.  But 
her  merchants  and  her  bankers,  her  florists,  and  her  sea- 
men made  her  everywhere  respected  for  her  wealth  and 
her  trade.  Dutch  comfort  and  Dutch  cleanliness  were 
proverbial.  Dutch  freedom  was  the  envy  of  the  down- 
trodden in  every  part  of  Europe. 

Between  Holland  and  France  were  the  Catholic  Low 
Countries,  which  we  know  as  Belgium.  These  provinces 
had  long  been  under  Spanish  rule,  but  at  the  close  of  the 
War  of  the  Spanish  Succession  they  had  fallen  to  Austria. 
They  were  governed  by  an  Austrian  viceroy  and,  particu- 
larly during  the  reign  of  Maria  Theresa,  enjoyed  a  measure 
of  prosperity.  But  the  grasping  policy  of  Holland  and  of 
England  blocked  the  navigation  of  the  Scheldt  and  pre- 
vented commercial  expansion.  From  the  signing  of  the 
Treaty  of  Utrecht  to  the  French  Revolution  Holland  over- 
shadowed the  Austrian  Netherlands  and  prevented  them 
from  seriously  rivaling  her  commercial  supremacy. 

We  have  now  completed  our  survey  of  the  portions  of 
Europe  that  particularly  concern  us.  With  Denmark  and 
Norway  and  Sweden  and  Russia  and  Poland  and  Turkey 
and  Greece  the  majority  of  tourists  had  little  to  do,  and 
our  plan  does  not  permit  us  to  follow  the  steps  of  the  occa- 
sional travelers.  To  Spain  we  must,  however,  give  a  word. 
In  the  eighteenth  century  Spain  was  in  full  decadence. 
An  intolerant  religious  policy  had  rooted  out  and  banished 
the  most  prosperous  elements  in  the  population  of  Spain. 
Vast  wealth  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Church,  but  poverty 
and  superstition  pervaded  the  country.  Travel  was  at- 
tended with  great  discomfort.  Roads  were  few  and  in 
bad  repair.  Inns  throughout  the  country  were  of  the  most 
primitive  character.  Spanish  misgovemment,  moreover, 
had  left  its  mark  on  more  than  one  part  of  Europe.  Span- 
ish princes  still  held  portions  of  Italy,  and  Spanish  posses- 
sions were  scattered  all  over  the  world;  but  the  energy 



that  had  marked  Spanish  administration  in  the  sixteenth 
century  had  given  place  to  pretentious  weakness;  and  to 
the  increase  of  the  power  of  Spain  in  any  part  of  the  world 
England  in  the  eighteenth  century  was  sternly  opposed, 
as  she  had  been  in  the  days  of  the  Invincible  Armada. 

With  Portugal,  on  the  other  hand,  the  relations  of  Eng- 
land were  intimate  and  amicable.  A  good  part  of  the  coun- 
try was  dominated  by  English  capital,  and  the  commerce 
of  her  greatest  ports  was  wholly  in  the  hands  of  the  Eng- 
lish. The  very  food  and  clothing  of  the  people  came  in  large 
measure  from  England  and  in  English  bottoms ;  on  the  otjier 
hand,  the  wine  imported  from  Lisbon  and  Oporto  into 
England,  on  the  easy  terms  of  the  Methuen  Treaty,  and 
freely  consumed  in  every  well-to-do  English  household, 
made  gout  a  disease  almost  inevitable  to  an  Englishman  of 
recognized  social  position. 

In  a  country  like  Portugal,  where  English  interests  were 
paramount,  there  were  naturally  a  good  many  represen- 
tatives of  English  families  not  actively  engaged  in  trade, 
but  attracted  by  the  genial  climate  and  the  beauty  of  the 
country.  The  lack  of  roads  and  accommodations  for  tour- 
ists compelled  strangers  for  the  most  part,  however,  to 
sojourn  in  one  of  the  coast  towns,  such  as  Oporto,  Lisbon, 
Cintra.  since  touring  in  the  interior  for  mere  pleasure  was 
hardly  practicable.  At  all  events,  a  voyage  to  Portugal 
was  not  counted  as  an  essential  part  of  the  conventional 
grand  tour,  but  rather  as  an  interesting  excursion  for  one 
who  sought  a  change  of  scene  and  air. 




The  English  Channel 

The  real  troubles  of  the  tourist  began  with  the  crossing 
of  the  English  Channel.*  Even  now,  in  luxurious  steamers 
that  make  the  run  in  less  than  an  hour,  the  experience  is 
for  many  no  unmixed  delight.  But  a  century  and  a  half 
ago,  when  the  vessels  were  small,  dirty,  and  ill-appointed, 
the  passage  was  a  torment,  and,  if  strong  head-winds  blew, 
impossible.  Some  travelers  went  all  the  way  by  water  from 
London  to  the  Continent.  "Upon  Change  every  day  is  to 
be  met  with  the  master  of  a  French  trader;  whose  price  to 
Calais,  Dunkirk,  or  Boulogne  is  only  a  guinea  each  pas- 
senger :  the  passage  is  commonly  made  in  sixteen  or  twenty 
hours :  this  scheme  is  much  more  commendable  than  going 
to  Dover;  where,  should  you  chance  to  be  wind-bound,  it 
will  cost  you  at  least  half  a  guinea  a  day."  ^ 

Several  routes  were  open  to  the  traveler  from  England 
to  the  Continent.  He  might  go  from  Harwich  to  the  Bricl 
in  Holland  by  packet  boat,^  from  Yarmouth  to  Cuxhaven, 
from  London  to  Hamburg,  from  Brighton  to  Dieppe,  from 
Dover  to  Calais  or  Boulogne,  and  so  on.  By  landing  at 
Boulogne  one  saved  some  miles  of  travel  by  coach  on  the 
way  to  Paris.  A  sailing  vessel  left  London  every  week 
for  Amsterdam,  from  which  place  there  was  also  a  return 

But  the  ordinary  route  to  the  Continent  by  way  of  Dover 
and  Calais  was  the  shortest  and  most  popular.  Yet,  if  we 
may  trust  the  genial  Smollett,  the  trip  by  coach  to  Dover 
was  not  entirely  agreeable,  though  possibly  not  much  worse 
than  the  trip  to  other  seaports.    "I  need  not  tell  you  this 



is  the  worst  road  in  England,  witli  respect  to  the  conven- 
iences of  travelling,  and  must  certainly  impress  foreigners 
with  an  unfavorable  opinion  of  the  nation  in  general.  The 
chambers  are  in  general  cold  and  comfortless,  the  beds 
paultry,  the  cookery  execrable,  the  wine  poison,  the  at- 
tendance bad,  the  publicans  insolent,  and  the  bills  extor- 
tion; ^  there  is  not  a  drop  of  tolerable  malt  liquor  to  be 
had  from  London  to  Dover."  ^ 

When  the  winds  permitted,  regular  packet  boats  carrying 
mail  and  passengers  left  Dover  for  Calais  on  Tuesdays  and 
Fridays  of  every  week,  and  Calais  for  Dover  on  Wednesdays 
and  Saturdays.'  Besides  these  there  were  three  or  four 
barques  belonging  to  private  owners  in  Dover  or  Calais 
in  which  passage,  including  transportation  of  luggage,  could 
be  had  for  ten  or  twelve  livres  a  person.*  The  exclusive  use 
of  a  small  vessel  cost  about  five  guineas.^ 

Before  the  introduction  of  steam  vessels  travelers  were 
entirely  at  the  mercy  of  the  winds,  and  might  be  delayed 
on  land  for  many  days.  In  the  sixteenth  century,  says 
Bates,  "a  forty-eight  hour  passage  was  nothing  to  grumble 
at."  ^  Coryate,  on  his  famous  journey,  went  from  Dover 
to  Calais  in  ten  hours.  His  characteristic  description  would 
apply  in  some  particulars  to  a  crossing  even  in  our  day. 
"I  arrived,"  says  he,  "about  five  of  the  clocke  in  the  after- 
noone,  after  I  had  varnished  the  exterior  parts  of  the 
ship  with  the  excrementall  ebullitions  of  my  tumultuous 
stomach,  as  desiring  to  satiate  the  gormandizing  paunches 
of  the  hungry  Haddocks  .  .  .  with  that  wherewith  I 
had  superfluously  stuffed  my  selfe  at  land,  having  made 
my  rumbling  belly  their  capacious  aumbrie."  ' 

In  the  eighteenth  century  five  hours  or  more  was  an  or- 
dinary allowance  for  a  crossing  in  a  fair  wind,^  though  the 
run  was  often  made  in  three  hours,  or  even  less.^  In  1754, 
the  Earl  of  Cork  and  Orrery  crossed  from  Dover  to  Calais 
in  three  hours  and  ten  minutes.^"  In  1772,  Dr.  Charles 
Burney  spent  nine  days  at  Calais  in  waiting  for  weather 
that  would  permit  him  to  cross  the  Channel.  When  he 
finally  arrived  at  London  he  suffered  a  severe  attack  of 






In  more  than  one  country  of  Europe  travel  by  water  was 
the  cheapest  and  easiest  way  to  get  about.  Wherever  pos- 
sible, the  rivers  were  utilized  for  transportation,  and  where 
there  were  none,  canals  often  supplied  the  lack.  The 
chief  means  of  travel  in  France  was  of  course  some  form  of 
wheeled  carriage.  But  the  tourist  had  more  than  one 
opportunity  to  vary  his  journey  by  resorting  to  water 
transportation.  From  Paris  he  could  take  at  eight  in  the 
morning  the  clumsy  coche  d'eau  or  galliot  from  the  Pont- 
Royal  down  the  Seine  to  Sevres  or  Saint-Cloud.^  He 
might  even  make  his  entrance  to  the  capital  by  boat. 
Says  Northleigh,  "The  barge  which  carries  you  from  Foun- 
tainbleau  down  the  river  to  Paris,  being  drawn  by  three  or 
four  horses,  runs  in  ten  or  twelve  hours,  sixteen  of  their 
leagues,  or  about  forty-eight  English  miles."  ^  For  going 
from  Rouen  to  Paris  by  boat  one  allowed  thirty-six  hours. ^ 

If  the  tourist  happened  to  be  at  Toulouse,  he  could  go  to 
the  Mediterranean  by  the  Languedoc  Canal,  nearly  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  long,  the  greatest  work  of  the  sort 
in  Europe.^  Besides  the  river  Seine,  the  Loire,  the  Gironde, 
and  other  smaller  streams  each  in  their  measure  enabled 
tourists,  as  well  as  natives,  to  get  from  place  to  place  with 
reasonable  comfort  and  tolerable  expedition.  But  the 
most  famous  water  journey  in  France,  and  one  that  the 
traveler  to  Italy  almost  invariably  took,  was  the  trip  down 
the  Rhone.  He  might  even  take  a  "water  carriage"  from 
Paris  to  Lyons,  paying  thirty-five  livres  for  his  passage, 
and  spending  ten  days  upon  the  way.^  He  then  embarked 
at  Lyons  in  the  coche  d'eau  and  ghding  "down  the  river 
with  great  velocity"  arrived  with  little  trouble  or  expense 
at  Marseilles.  For  dinners  and  suppers  he  resorted  to  the 
ordinaries  in  the  towns  and  villages  on  each  side  of  the 
river.  His  chief  anxiety  was  to  get  safely  past  the  dan- 
gerous Pont  Saint-Esprit,  where  more  than  one  vessel  was 


'  PARIS    IN    1 75 1,    BETWEEN  PONT-AU-CHANGE    AND 


embarked  with  the  courier  for  Genoa.  We  paid  a  zcchin  ' 
each  for  our  passage;  and  paid  for  our  baggage  besides. 
They  rowed  all  night;  and,  at  ten  in  the  morning,  we  ar- 
rived at  the  city  of  Genoa,"  ^  twenty  leagues  from  Lcrici. 
Thence  he  continued  to  Villafranca  "in  a  small  boat  with 
oars  and  sails."  ' 

The  coasting  trip  was  not  always  so  easily  accomplished. 
Wright  wished  to  go  from  Marseilles  to  Leghorn,  and  this 
was  his  experience:  "After  having  been  detained  at  Mar- 
seilles a  fortnight  by  contrary  winds  ...  I  went  on 
board  a  bark  bound  for  Leghorn:  we  met  with  very  bad 
weather;  after  six  days  labouring  with  wind  and  sea  .  .  . 
we  were  glad  at  last  to  get  ashore  at  St.  Remo."  * 

The  other  most  popular  coasting  trip  was  the  run  from 
Rome  to  Naples,  which  was  inexpensive,  and  even  in  bad 
weather  enabled  the  traveler  to  exchange  one  sort  of  dis- 
comfort for  another.''  "By  water  the  passage  is  very  pleas- 
ant in  summer;  this  is  generally  perfonned  in  a  felucca  or 
small  boat,  which  you  hire  at  Rome  or  Ostia  for  eight  pis- 
toles, and  keeping  close  to  the  shore,  in  order  to  have  shelter 
in  case  of  bad  weather,  you  arrive  at  Naples  in  four  and 
twenty  hours,  or  at  furthest  in  two  days  and  two  nights 
with  a  fair  wind.  Those  who  do  not  choose  to  hire  a  boat 
to  themselves  pay  two  crowns  for  their  passage  and  four 
or  five  crowns  for  passage  and  board." ' 

One  objection  to  travel  on  the  Mediterranean  was  the 
danger,  not  wholly  imaginary,  of  capture  by  Barbary 
pirates,  who  might  be  found  lurldng  in  some  sheltered  bay 
awaiting  an  opportunity  to  pounce  upon  an  unprotected 

Once  in  the  country  the  tourist  in  Italy  found  his  chief 
opportunity  for  water  travel  in  the  great  plain  between 
the  Apennines  and  the  Alps.  Here,  where  the  roads  were 
none  too  good,  the  tourist  often  saved  trouble  and  expense 
by  taking  a  water  route.  This  was,  indeed,  the  favorite 
way  of  going  from  Ferrara  to  Venice.  Between  Ferrara  and 
Bologna  one  could  go  by  post-route  or  by  canal. ^  Ray, 
who  made  the  journey  in  the  seventeenth  century,  de- 



^f-    1  (> 



scribes  the  journey  to  Venice  in  detail:  "Taking  the  Flor- 
entine Procaccio's  boat  to  Venice,  we  passed  through  nine 
sostegni  or  locks  to  Mai  Albergo,  where  we  shifted  our 
boat,  going  from  a  higher  to  a  lower  channel,  which  brought 
us  to  Ferrara,  forty-five  miles  distant  from  Bologna.  From 
Ferrara  we  were  tow'd  by  a  horse  through  an  artificial  chan- 
nel as  far  as  Ponte,  where  ent'ring  the  river  Po,  we  chang'd 
our  boat  again  and  were  row'd  down  the  stream  twenty- 
seven  miles  to  Corbola,  where  ent'ring  the  Venetian  terri- 
tories we  were  obliged  once  more  to  change  in  order  to  take 
a  Venetian  boat."  ^ 

James  Edward  Smith,  who  traveled  in  the  same  region 
more  than  a  century  later,  found  the  accommodations  on 
this  route  still  sufficiently  primitive:  "This  evening  (May 
8),  about  ten  o'clock,  we  went  on  board  the  boat  of  the 
courier  for  Venice,  paying  thirty  pauls  each,  not  quite 
fifteen  shillings,  to  be  landed  there  free  of  all  other  ex- 
pense, and  fed  by  the  way.  .  .  .  After  a  confused  kind  of 
supper  which  our  good  captain  endeavoured  to  make  as 
comfortable  as  possible,  an  arrangement  of  mattresses  took 
place  .  .  .  and  the  company  were  laid,  or  rather  piled 
upon  them,  over  chests,  bales,  and  everything  that  could 
be  thought  of."  ^ 

Mariana  Starke  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century 
went  from  Ferrara  to  Mestre  by  carriage  and  by  gondola  to 
Venice.  But  she  recommends  invalids  "to  embark  at 
Francolino,  which  is  five  miles  from  Ferrara,  and  go  all 
the  way  to  Venice  by  water,  a  voyage  of  eighty  miles  up 
the  Po,  the  Adige,  the  Brenta,  and  the  Lagoons,  which  is 
usually  performed  in  about  twenty  hours.  Carriages, 
however,  must  at  all  events  go  over  land ;  but,  as  the  road 
is  extremely  bad,  they  go  best  empty."  ^ 

One  water  journey  was  celebrated,  and  that  was  the 
passage  of  the  Brenta  in  going  from  Padua  to  Venice,  a 
distance  of  about  twenty-five  miles.  On  both  sides  of  the 
stream  rose  the  palaces  of  the  Venetian  nobility,  "built 
with  so  great  a  variety  of  architecture  that  there  is  not  one 
of  them  like  another."  *   Of  the  richness  and  beauty  of  these 



palatial  villas  and  their  grounds  tourists  could  not  say 
enough,^  for  the  eighteenth-century  traveler  was  a  devoted 
admirer  of  closely  kept  hedges  and  formal  gardens  laid  out 
in  geometrical  lines.  One  sensible  Englishman,  however, 
at  the  opening  of  the  nineteenth  century  considerably 
modified  the  enthusiastic  etilogies  of  his  predecessors. 
"These  banks,"  says  he,  "have  without  a  doubt  a  rich,  a 
lively,  and  sometimes  a  splendid  appearance;  but  their 
splendour  and  beauty  have  been  much  exaggerated,  or  are 
much  faded;  and  an  Englishman  accustomed  to  the 
Thames,  and  to  the  villas  which  grace  its  banks,  will  •dis- 
cover little  to  excite  his  admiration,  as  he  descends  the 
canal  of  the  Brenta."  ^ 

The  ordinary  traveler  made  the  trip  on  the  Brenta  in 
about  eight  hours  ^  in  a  burchio  or  hurcello,  which  with  its 
mirrors  and  carpets  and  glass  doors  was  a  sufficiently  luxu- 
rious conveyance.  "The  Burcello  is  a  large  handsome 
boat;  the  middle  part  of  which  is  a  pretty  room,  generally 
adorn'd  with  carving,  gilding,  and  painting.  'T  is  drawn 
down  the  Brenta  with  one  horse  to  Fusino,  the  entrance 
into  the  Lagune;  and  from  thence  to  Venice  'tis  hawl'd 
along  by  another  boat,  which  they  call  a  Remulcio,  with 
four  or  six  rowers."  * 

Exclusive  travelers  "of  a  certain  rank"  hired  a  boat  for 
their  own  use.  This  would  commonly  hold  twenty  persons 
or  more  and  "with  every  expense  included"  cost  "an 
English  company  about  thirty-five  shillings."  ^ 

Besides  these  considerable  journeys  on  the  water  there 
was  frequent  occasion  to  cross  streams,  small  or  large,  and 
the  lack  of  bridges  necessitated  fording  or  the  use  of  ferries. 
The  fording  of  small  watercourses  was  so  common  in  hilly 
districts  as  ordinarily  to  excite  no  comment,  but  the  trav- 
eler occasionally  jotted  in  his  notebook  a  comment  on  the 
gullying  of  mountain  roads  after  heavy  rains  and  the 
flooding  of  the  lowlands  in  the  spring.  A  river  fed  by  gla- 
ciers might  always  be  expected  to  give  the  traveler  some 
difficiilty.  The  following  was  an  ordinary  incident  of  travel : 
"After  a  slight  examination  at  St.  Laurent,  the  last  town 




in  France,  we  forded  the  river  Var,  with  the  help  of  some 
guides,  and  entered  the  king  of  Sardinia's  dominions."  On 
account  of  the  depth  of  the  river,  which  is  full  of  shifting 
holes,  "the  guides  are  therefore  obHged  to  wade  naked  up 
to  their  waists  on  each  side  of  the  carriage,  feeling  their 
way  with  poles.  If  any  person  be  lost,  the  guides  are 
hanged  without  mercy;  yet  their  pay,  as  fixed  by  govern- 
ment, is  very  low,  three-pence  for  each  passage.  All  trav- 
ellers, who  have  the  least  spark  of  generosity,  give  them 
much  more."  ^ 

Ferries  2  in  some  districts  were  a  perpetual  annoyance. 
Tourists  often  complained  of  being  entrapped  into  a  bargain 
for  transportation  that  did  not  include  the  ferry  charges, 
which  were  easily  made  greater  for  strangers  ignorant  of 
the  usual  rates.^  De  Drosses  found  the  numerous  ferries 
between  Bologna  and  Venice  very  expensive  and  particu- 
larly annoying  because  of  the  delay  they  occasioned. ^ 

As  elsewhere  observed,  eighteenth-century  tourists  ap- 
pear hardly  to  have  discovered  the  Italian  lakes,  or  at  all 
events  to  have  made  little  effort  to  see  them.  The  cele- 
brated Borromean  Isles  in  Lake  Maggiore  drew  admiring 
travelers,  but  the  lakes  in  general  were  regarded  merely  as 
an  easy  means  of  transportation. 



In  Germany  there  were  three  chief  rivers  of  service  to 
the  tourist,  —the  Rhine,  the  Danube,  and  the  Elbe.  In  the 
eighteenth  century,  as  indeed  for  centuries  before,  the  Rhine 
offered  the  most  convenient  route  between  the  north  and 
the  south  of  Germany.  So  indispensable  was  it  that  from 
ancient  days  the  authorities  on  both  sides  of  the  river  ex- 
acted high  tolls  from  all  boatmen  for  the  privilege  of  pass- 
ing.6  Before  the  eighteenth  century  the  boatmen  in  their 
turn  exacted  labor  from  their  passengers.  Cory  ate  tells 
us  that  even  those  who  had  paid  their  passage  were  com- 



pelled  to  take  their  turn  at  the  oar.  On  arriving  at  Obcr- 
winter,  says  he,  "We  solaced  ourselves,  after  our  tedious 
labour  of  rowing,  as  merrily  as  we  could."  *  This  excellent 
form  of  exercise  gradually  ceased  to  be  compulsory.  For 
ascending  the  river  horses  were  employed,  as  indeed  they 
had  been  in  Coryate's  day.  Cogan  gives  a  view  of  Bonn 
with  a  vessel  of  two  or  three  hundred  tons  drawn  by  three 
horses  in  single  file  going  up  the  Rhine. ^  For  larger  craft, 
when  heavily  loaded,  the  number  of  horses  was  increased 
to  ten  or  even  twenty.^  In  shallow  places  such  vessels  had 
to  use  lighters.  Says  Cogan,'^  "When  the  water  is  low  and 
the  wind  is  against  them,  they  are  some  months  in  making 
their  passage." 

With  such  cargo-boats  the  ordinary  tourist  *  had  little 
to  do,  for  he  could  find  ample  accommodation  in  vessels 
designed  expressly  for  passenger  traffic.  "These  are  of 
various  sizes,  according  to  the  number  of  passengers  to  be 
accommodated.  Those  most  commonly  in  use  have  an 
oblong  cabin  built  in  the  centre,  that  will  contain  tenor 
twelve  persons  very  commodiously ;  between  this  and  the 
helm  are  benches  with  a  canvas  stretched  upon  hoops  by 
way  of  canopy,  which  forms  a  second  compartment  for  a 
lower  class  of  passengers.  The  boatman  is  attended  with 
one  or  two  servants.  The  passage  is  just  as  you  make 
your  agreement.  .  .  .  We  hired  our  boat  for  thirteen  shil- 
lings English,  giving  the  man,  however,  permission  to  take 
in  two  or  three  other  passengers  that  wished  to  go  with 
him."  6 

The  swift  current  of  the  Rhine  so  aided  the  descent  that 
the  charge  for  going  from  Mainz  to  Cologne  was  much  less 
than  for  going  from  Cologne  to  Mainz.  Multitudes  of 
craft  simply  floated  downstream,  aided  a  little,  perhaps, 
by  a  sail  and  kept  by  the  rudder  or  an  occasional  dip  of 
the  great  sweeps  from  striking  the  shore  or  some  other 

Transport  on  the  Danube  or  the  Elbe  was  much  the  same 
as  on  the  Rhine,  except  that  not  infrequently  the  accommo- 
dations were  more  primitive.    One  traveler  who  went  down 



the  Danube  in  1792  recorded  in  his  journal,  "The  seventh 
day  of  my  being  immured  in  a  sty."  '  Travelers  in  general 
complain  that  the  boats  are  small  and  dirty  and  over- 
crowded. Yet  even  at  worst  the  boats  were  hardly  in- 
ferior to  the  conveyances  on  land.  The  luxurious  Lady 
Mary  Montagu,  who  in  17 16  descended  the  Danube  from 
Rcgcnsburg  to  Vienna,  found  the  "journey  perfectly  agree- 
able." She  went  "in  one  of  those  little  vessels,  that  they 
very  properly  call  wooden  houses,  having  in  them  all  the 
conveniences  of  a  palace,  stoves  in  the  chambers,  kitchens, 
etc.  They  are  rowed  by  twelve  men  each,  and  move  with 
such  incredible  swiftness,  that  in  the  same  day  you  have 
the  pleasure  of  a  vast  variety  of  prospects."  ^  She  obvi- 
ously had  a  boat  of  the  highest  type. 

In  1798,  Mariana  Starke  found  very  good  accommoda- 
tions in  going  from  Dresden  to  Hamburg  by  the  Elbe. 
"Hearing  that  the  road  was  execrably  bad,  and  that  the 
inns  were  very  indifferent,  we  determined  to  dismiss  our 
mules,  and  go  by  water,  in  an  excellent  boat,  with  three 
cabins,  four  beds,  a  place  behind  for  men-servants,  and 
another  before  for  baggage."  The  voyage,  says  she,  is 
"usually  accomplished  in  less  than  a  week;  even  though 
you  cast  anchor  for  a  few  hours  every  night,  in  order  to 
avoid  the  noise  which  the  Boatmen  constantly  make  while 
going  on."  3 

The  trip  down  the  Elbe  from  Hamburg  to  Cuxhavcn,  in 
boats  containing  beds  for  five  or  six  persons  and  a  fireplace 
for  cooking,  took  eighteen  hours  for  about  sixty  miles. 
For  the  boat  and  the  three  watermen  the  charge  was  sev- 
enty marks.  Four  marks  were  added  as  a  gratuity.  The 
passengers  found  provisions  for  themselves,  but  not  for 
the  watermen.'' 


Holland  and  Belgium 

In  the  eighteenth  century,  as  in  our  day,  the  Low 
Countries  were  a  network  of   waterways,   artificial   and 



natural.  The  service  had  been  highly  organized  for  genera- 
tions, and  guide-books  published  elaborate  "Directions  to 
know  at  what  times  the  post-waggons,  draw-boats,  passage- 
vessels,  or  sailing-boats,  and  market-boats,  set  out  from 
Amsterdam  to  the  principal  towns  in  the  Low  Countries, 
according  to  their  alphabetical  order."  '  Nugent's  ac- 
count, which  follows,  enables  us  to  see  precisely  what  we 
should  have  had  to  do :  — 

"The  usual  way  of  travelling  in  Holland,  and  most  parts 
of  the  United  Provinces  as  well  as  in  a  great  many  prov- 
inces of  the  Austrian  and  French  Netherlands,  is  in  Treck- 
scoots,  or  Draw-boats,  which  are  large  covered  boats  not 
unlike  the  barges  of  the  livery  companies  of  London,  drawn 
by  a  horse  at  the  rate  of  three  miles  an  hour;  the  fare  of 
which  does  not  amount  to  a  penny  a  mile ;  and  you  have 
the  conveniency  of  carrying  a  portmanteau,  or  provisions; 
so  that  you  need  not  be  at  any  manner  of  expence  at  a 
public  house  by  the  way.  The  rate  of  places  in  these  boats, 
as  also  in  their  post-waggons,  is  fixed;  therefore  there  is  no 
occasion  for  contending  about  the  price.  The  carriage  of 
one's  baggage  must  be  paid  apart,  for  which  there  docs  not 
seem  to  be  any  settled  price,  but  is  left  to  the  discretion 
of  the  skipper  or  boatman,  who  judges  generally  according 
as  his  thick  scull  and  avaricious  heart  directs  him ;  for  which 
reason  you  must  agree  upon  a  price  for  the  carriage  of  your 
goods  before  you  put  them  in,  or  you  will  be  obliged  to  give 
him  whatever  he  pleases  to  ask.  .  .  . 

"There  is  scarce  a  town  in  Holland  but  one  may  travel 
to  in  this  manner  every  day;  and  if  it  be  a  considerable 
place,  almost  every  hour,  at  the  ringing  of  a  bell;  but  they 
will  not  stay  a  moment  afterwards  for  a  passenger,  tho' 
they  see  him  coming."  ^ 

Another  account  of  the  canal  boats  by  a  contemporary 
writer  completes  the  picture,  with  very  little  repetition :  — 

"These  passage-boats,  or  treck  schuyts,  as  they  are  called 
in  the  language  of  the  country,  go  at  the  rate  of  four  miles 
an  hour,  stopping  only  about  half  a  quarter  of  an  hour  at 
certain  villages,  to  give  the  passenger  an  opportunity  of 




stretching  himself,  and  taking  a  little  refreshment  in  the 
inns.    The  fare  is  about  three  farthings  a  mile.  .  .  . 

"The  boat  is  drawn  by  a  horse,  and  contains  about 
twenty  or  five  and  twenty  passengers.  It  is  very  clean, 
with  a  deck  over  it  which  covers  them  from  rain,  etc.,  so 
that  they  are  as  much  at  ease  as  in  their  own  houses.  They 
talk,  read,  sew,  knit,  as  each  likes  best;  and  do  not  know 
they  are  going  by  water,  except  they  look  out,  and  see 
they  are  moving,  the  motion  is  so  insensible.  .  .  .  The 
boat  has  windows  on  the  sides  to  let  in  the  air ;  from  which 
also  the  passengers  may  see  the  country  as  they  travel. 
The  boat  goes  off  every  hour  of  the  day,  on  the  ringing  of 
a  little  bell;  ^  so  that  one  knows  to  a  minute  when  he  is 
to  set  out,  and  to  a  few  minutes,  when  he  shall  arrive  at 
his  journey's  end.  Strangers  are  equally  surprised  and 
charmed  with  this  way  of  travelling,  as  it  is  indeed  far 
the  most  commodious,  best  regulated,  and  cheapest  in 
Europe."  ^ 

To  a  modern  reader  the  speed  does  not  seem  excessive,^ 
but  the  boats  compared  favorably  even  in  speed  with  the 
ordinary  wheeled  conveyances  in  many  parts  of  Europe. 
In  other  particulars  the  comfort  of  the  boats  was  incom- 
parably greater  than  that  of  the  post-wagon  or  the  coach. 
Travelers  grow  enthusiastic  over  the  delights  of  water 
travel  in  Holland  and  Flanders  and  declare  that  "the 
convenience  and  pleasure  of  it  can  hardly  be  conceived 
from  description."  *  Misson,  about  a  century  earlier,  had 
remarked  on  these  boats:  "You  are  seated  as  quietly  in 
them  as  if  you  were  at  home,  and  sheltered  both  from  rain 
and  wind :  so  that  you  may  go  from  one  country  to  another, 
almost  without  perceiving  that  you  are  out  of  the  house."  ^ 

One  treck-scoot  in  particular,  plying  daily  between  Ghent 
and  Bruges  through  a  canal  thirty  miles  long,  was  called 
"the  most  remarkable  boat  of  the  kind  in  all  Europe;  for 
it  is  a  perfect  tavern  divided  into  several  appartments, 
with  a  very  good  ordinary  at  dinner  of  six  or  seven  dishes, 
and  all  sorts  of  wines  at  moderate  prices.  In  winter  they 
have  fires  in  their  chimneys,  and  the  motion  of  the  vessel 



is  so  gentle  that  a  person  is  all  the  way  as  if  he  were  in  a 
house."  ^ 

Even  minor  towns  were  well  served.  Note  a  single  in- 
stance: "The  boat  that  passes  between  Brussels  and  Ville- 
brocck  is  extremely  commodious:  the  passengers  may  be 
accommodated  with  meat  and  drink."  ^ 

For  going  from  Amsterdam  to  Antwerp  and  Brussels 
three  or  four  gentlemen  accompanied  by  ladies  might  hire 
a  yacht  at  Rotterdam  for  from  seven  to  ten  guilders  a^ay 
and  see  the  country  with  entire  independence.  They  could 
take  servants  with  them  to  cook  their  food  and  look  after 
the  baggage;  they  could  sleep  in  good  beds  on  the  boat, 
and  be  more  comfortable  than  at  an  inn.  "If  they  have  a 
mind,  they  may  stop  by  the  way  to  see  Dort  or  Bergen-op- 
Zoom,  or  some  of  the  towns  of  Zealand."  '  The  chief  in- 
convenience from  this  sort  of  travel  arose  in  hot  weather, 
when  the  nearly  stagnant  water  in  the  canals  became  cov- 
ered with  green  scum  and  exhaled  a  noisome  stench. 




The  modern  tourist  who  bowls  along  in  his  private 
motor-car  over  highways  smooth  as  a  floor  through  almost 
every  part  of  Europe,  or  the  sight-seer  of  modest  means 
who  employs  the  more  plebeian  means  of  transport,  can 
little  appreciate  what  land  travel  meant  a  century  and  a 
half  ago.  The  Romans,  with  their  keen  practical  sense  and 
unsurpassed  administrative  ability,  had  constructed  a  won- 
derful system  of  paved  roads  radiating  from  the  capital  to 
all  parts  of  the  Empire.^  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  in 
the  time  of  the  Roman  Empire  one  could  travel  with  more 
expedition  and  less  discomfort  than  was  the  case,  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  throughout  the  greater  part  of  Europe. 
With  the  overthrow  of  the  imperial  power  the  old  Roman 
roads  had  fallen  into  decay.  What  had  once  been  un- 
broken lines  of  easy  communication  ^  between  the  capital 
and  the  remotest  provincial  towns  had  often  become  rude 
and  almost  undistinguishable  paths.  Except  in  portions 
of  France  and  of  the  Low  Countries,  the  roads  through- 
out most  of  Europe  in  the  eighteenth  century  were  a 
disgrace  to  civilized  countries.  One  might  reasonably  ex- 
pect that  where  the  highways  were  the  chief,  and  in  many 
cases  the  only,  means  of  communication,  they  would  be 
brought  to  the  highest  perfection,  but  such  was  by  no 
means  the  rule.  Even  in  England,  which  was  not  lacking 
in  wealth  and  some  degree  of  splendor,  the  roads  in  the 
seventeenth  century  presented  almost  insuperable  difficul- 
ties, which  Macaulay  depicts  with  his  usual  vigor. ^  In  the 
eighteenth  century  the  overturning  or  miring  of  a  coach  in 
the  immediate  neighborhood  of  London  was  one  of  the 



commonest  of  incidents.^  In  wet  weather  there  was  in 
London  a  veritable  slough  between  Kensington  Palace  and 
St.  James's  Palace. 



The  roads  of  France  are  generally  praised  by  eighteenth- 
century  travelers.^  It  is,  moreover,  unquestionably  true 
that  on  the  whole  no  part  of  Europe  in  the  last  quarter  of 
the  century,  except  some  portions  of  the  Low  Countries, 
had  roads  so  good  as  France,^  but  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury even  the  French  roads  left  much  to  be  desired,  and 
in  some  cases  they  could  hardly  have  failed  to  improve  if 
they  had  remained  passable  at  all.  When  Lippomano  was 
in  France  in  the  sixteenth  century  he  found  the  roads 
frightfully  miry.  Only  the  highway  from  Paris  to  Or- 
leans was  paved.  In  Poitou  he  could  make  but  four 
leagues  a  day.^  As  late  as  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century  the  roads  were  often  ill-defined  and  passed  through 
fords  so  deep  as  to  let  the  water  into  the  carriage  through 
the  sides.^  Before  1700,  and  in  many  regions  after  that 
date,  travel  at  night  was  deemed  inadvisable.®  Not  until 
the  reign  of  Louis  XVI  had  the  corvees  so  improved  the 
highways  that  diligences  ventured  on  the  roads  after  dark.' 
More  than  one  of  the  roads  remained  bad  to  a  late  date. 
The  keen-eyed  Abbd  Barth^lemy  went  to  Italy  in  1755, 
and  he  remarks:  ^  "Some  of  our  journeys  have  been  very 
tiresome.  The  one  from  Auxerre  to  Dijon,  which  is  two 
and  thirty  leagues,  was  most  intolerable.  The  road  passes 
through  a  very  fine  country,  but  in  itself  it  is  the  worst  I 
have  ever  seen." 

The  well-known  traveler  Breval  had  trouble  in  reaching 
Auxerre  from  the  other  side:  "Auxerre  made  us  some 
Amends  for  three  Days  very  dismally  spent  in  getting 
thither  from  Gien,  thro'  a  barren  ill-peopled  Country,  and 
impassable  almost  for  Wheel-Carriages."  ®  The  distance 
in  our  time  by  railway  is  only  fifty-seven  miles. 




Foreign  tourists  had  little  occasion  to  traverse  the  ex- 
treme west  of  France,  —  Brittany  and  La  Vendee,  —  but 
there,  too,  the  condition  of  the  roads  was  extremely  primi- 
tive. John  Carr  in  going  back  to  England  from  his  tour 
in  France  passed  through  Caen  in  Normandy.  "After  we 
left  Caen,"  says  he,  "the  roads  became  very  bad.  Our 
ponderous  machine  [diligence]  frequently  rolled  from  one 
side  to  the  other,  and  with  many  alarming  crackings, 
threatened  us  with  a  heavy  and  perilous  overthrow."  ^ 

Many  highways,  especially  in  the  remoter  provinces, 
were  without  question  sadly  out  of  repair.  But  notwith- 
standing bad  roads,  such  as  one  too  often  finds  in  America 
to-day,  the  quality  of  the  French  roads  in  general  was 
excellent.  The  chief  alleged  defect  was  the  heavy  pave- 
ment,^ which  ill-adapted  them  for  the  passage  of  light 
carriages.^  The  anonymous  author  of  "A  View  of  Paris" 
(1701),  though  fond  of  satirical  comment,  says  neverthe- 
less of  the  road  from  Paris  to  Versailles  that  it  "is  pav'd 
exceeding  even,  as  indeed  are  most  roads  in  France. ' '  ^  Lady 
Mary  Montagu  was  not  given  to  overpraise,  but  in  1739 
she  writes:  "France  is  so  much  improved,  it  would  not  be 
known  to  be  the  same  country  we  passed  through,  twenty 
years  ago  .  .  .  the  roads  are  all  mended,  and  the  greater 
part  of  them  paved  as  well  as  the  streets  of  Paris,  planted 
on  both  sides  like  the  roads  in  Holland;  and  such  good 
care  taken  against  robbers,  that  you  may  cross  the  country 
with  your  purse  in  your  hand."  ^ 

The  road  between  Calais  and  Saint-Omer,  says  Jones,^ 
"seems  equal  to  any  of  the  best  turnpike  roads  we  have  in 
England,"  being  about  forty  feet  wide  and  planted  with 
willows,  poplars,  and  elms.  So  good  was  the  road  between 
Mons  and  Paris  that  the  masters  of  the  diligences  assured 
their  patrons  that  on  the  third  day  after  leaving  Brussels 
one  could  dine  at  Paris.''  And  Dr.  Rigby  says,  in  1789: 
"We  were  told  to  expect  nothing  but  rough  paved  roads. 
They  are  paved  in  some  places,  but  in  others  as  good  as 
English  roads."  ^ 





We  occasionally  detect  in  the  tourist  in  Italy  an  apparent 
lack  of  interest  in  notable  places  only  a  short  distance  off 
the  beaten  track.  As  a  partial  explanation  we  must  ob- 
serve that  large  districts  in  Italy  had  either  no  roads  at  all 
or  at  best  mere  tracks  that  in  wet  weather  were  sloughs 
and  in  dry  weather  were  troughs  of  dust.  The  best  roads 
were  bad  enough.  In  Piedmont,  says  Tivaroni/  "travel 
was  difficult  for  all.  On  going  out  from  many  towns  and 
from  many  villages  one  was  compelled  to  proceed  on  foot 
or  to  ride  on  asses,  mules,  or  horses  along  narrow  roads  that 
were  in  wretched  repair  or  crossed  by  streams  of  water 
lacking  bridges.  .  .  .  The  bad  state  of  the  roads  was  and 
remained  one  of  the  greatest  obstacles  to  the  progress  of 
internal  commerce,  the  maintenance  of  the  thoroughfares 
—  even  the  royal  highways  —  being  entrusted  to  the  com- 

This  general  statement  about  the  roads  of  Piedmont 
may  easily  be  paralleled  for  the  greater  part  of  Italy  -  in 
contemporary  books  of  travel  dating  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end  of  the  century.  Most  significant  are  the  accounts 
of  those  travelers  who  write  late  in  the  eighteenth  century 
or  early  in  the  nineteenth,  for  one  has  a  right  by  that  time 
to  expect  some  improvement. 

We  may  single  out  a  few  specimen  comments,  beginning 
with  the  northern  districts.  James  Edward  Smith  said 
that  the  country  about  Genoa  was  so  extremely  hilly  that 
the  only  way  of  traveling  into  the  interior  parts  was  in 
sedan  chairs.'  Writing  in  May  of  1766,  Sharp  notes: 
"We  are  arrived  at  Turin;  but  the  journey  from  Alexandria 
has  been  unpleasant;  one  night's  rain  has  made  the  road 
almost  impassable,  so  muddy  and  clayey  is  the  soil."  •* 

An  earlier  traveler,  very  fair-minded,  says  that  the  jour- 
ney of  ninety  miles  between  San  Remo  and  Genoa  re- 



quires  three  days  on  muleback.  The  road  is  "either  very 
good  or  very  bad,  but  much  the  most  of  the  latter;  gener- 
ally along  the  brinks  of  vast  high  mountains,  the  path  very 
narrow  and  very  rugged."  ' 

Some  friends  of  Smollett  were  "exposed  to  a  variety  of 
disagreeable  adventures  from  the  impracticability  of  the 
road.  The  coach  had  been  several  times  in  the  most  immi- 
nent hazard  of  being  lost  with  all  our  baggage ;  and  at  two 
different  places  it  was  necessary  to  hire  a  dozen  of  oxen 
and  as  many  men,  to  disengage  it  from  the  holes  into  which 
it  had  run."  * 

A  little  ofl  the  main  routes  one  might  expect  almost 
anything.  Here  is  an  account  of  a  drive  to  Petrarch's  last 
home  —  Arqua  Petrarcha:  "A  little  beyond  the  village  of 
Cataio,  we  turned  ofl  from  the  high  road,  and  alighting 
from  the  carriage  on  account  of  the  swampiness  of  the 
country,  we  walked  and  rowed  occasionally  through  lines 
of  willows,  or  over  tracts  of  marshy  land,  for  two  or  three 
miles,  till  we  began  to  ascend  the  mountain.  .  .  .^  We 
passed  through  the  village  and  descended  the  hill.  Though 
overturned  by  a  blunder  of  the  drivers,  and  for  some  time 
suspended  over  the  canal  with  imminent  danger  of  being 
precipitated  into  it,  yet  as  the  night  was  bright  and  warm, 
and  all  the  party  in  high  spirits,  the  excursion  was  ex- 
tremely pleasant."  * 

As  for  Tuscany,  Bishop  Burnet  had  remarked  before 
the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  "All  the  ways  of 
Tuscany  are  very  rugged,  except  on  the  sides  of  the  Amo; 
but  the  uneasiness  of  the  road  is  much  qualified  by  the 
great  care  that  is  had  of  the  highways,  which  are  all  in 
very  good  case."  ^  De  La  Lande  agrees  with  Burnet: 
"One  travels  agreeably  in  Tuscany,  the  roads  being  in  gen- 
eral fine,  with  the  exception  of  those  between  Siena  and  the 
boundary  of  the  Grand  Duchy."  ^ 

But  of  the  much-traveled  way  between  Bologna  and 
Florence  Addison  says:  "The  way  .  .  .  runs  over  several 
ranges  of  mountains,  and  is  the  worst  road,  I  believe,  of 
any  over  the  Apennines,  for  this  was  my  third  time  of 



crossing  them."  ^  In  more  detail  Nugent  comments: 
"Tliis  road  is  so  incommodious  for  wheel-carriages  that 
those  who  travel  between  Bologna  and  Florence  choose 
either  litters  or  mules,  because  of  being  obliged  so  often  to 
alight  and  walk  a-foot,  rather  than  calashes,  in  which  they 
travel  in  the  plain  country.  The  litters  from  Bologna  to 
Florence  usually  cost  two  pistoles  and  a  half,  or  three  pis- 
toles, the  horses  eighteen  or  twenty  julios,  according  to  the 
season." ^ 

Roads  crossing  the  Apennines  might  be  expected  to  offer 
some  difficulty,  but  even  the  great  highways  connecting 
the  North  and  the  South  were  little  better.  The  road 
from  Siena  to  Rome,  one  of  the  most  traveled  in  Italy, 
had  an  evil  reputation.  Says  De  Brosses,  "It  was  more 
than  enough  to  dishearten  travellers  without  mentioning 
broken  shafts  or  axles,  somersaults,  and  other  little  inci- 
dents of  the  trip."  ^ 

Worst  of  all  were  the  roads  throughout  the  South.  In 
traveling  in  the  Kingdom  of  Naples  everything,  says  Tiva- 
roni,  had  to  be  carried  on  the  backs  of  mules.  "It  was 
difficult  or  dangerous  to  go  on  horseback  in  Calabria,  and 
little  less  in  the  Abruzzi." *  "Up  to  the  time  of  Charles  III, 
the  Kingdom  [of  Naples]  had  no  roads  except  that  to  Rome 
and  perhaps  in  part  that  to  Foggia.  Every  other  trace  of 
passable  roads  was  lacking.  'It  is  impossible,'  remarked 
Gorani,  who  was  later  at  Naples,  when  already  the  roads 
had  increased  in  number,  '  to  travel  in  this  kingdom.  The 
roads  are  extremely  neglected  and  dangerous ;  because  there 
is  no  police,  they  offer  none  of  the  conveniences  that  are 
found  in  the  greater  part  of  the  countries  of  Europe.  Most 
journeys  are  made  on  horseback,  with  horses  or  mules  fol- 
lowing for  carrying  baggage  and  provisions.'"  ^ 

De  La  Lande  confirms  Tivaroni  by  saying  of  the  road 
between  Rome  and  Naples  that  it  was  so  bad  in  winter  that 
one  ran  great  risk  of  being  swallowed  up  in  the  mud-holes.^ 
"Charles  III  opened  roads  for  wheeled  carriages  from 
Naples  as  far  as  Capua,  Caserta,  Persano,  Venafro,  and 
Bo  vino.    They  led  to  the  kings'  hunting  grounds."'    From 



1778  to  1793,  Ferdinand  opened  various  carriage  roads  for 
traffic  between  province  and  province  and  from  the  interior 
to  the  sea.  But  these  were  only  main  thoroughfares.  In 
fact,  throughout  all  the  rest  of  the  kingdom  cross-roads 
and  means  of  intercommunication  were  lacking  almost 

Sicily  was,  if  possible,  even  worse  provided  with  means 
of  communication:  "There  were,  in  1852,  just  750  miles  of 
carriage-road  in  the  whole  island.  Even  the  two  chief 
cities,  Palermo  and  Messina,  were  not  linked  by  any  con- 
tinuous highway,  for  the  middle  part  of  the  connexion  was 
'a  mule  track  42  miles  long.'  Travellers,  therefore,  went 
from  the  east  to  the  west  of  the  island  by  sea,  except  a  few 
of  the  richer  and  more  adventurous  English  tourists,  who 
rode  over  the  rough  tracks,  taking  their  own  tents  and 
provisions,  for  the  food  and  lodging  that  could  be  obtained 
from  the  natives  appear  to  have  been  more  intolerable  than 
they  are  to-day."  ^ 

The  state  of  the  roads  in  Sicily  may  be  judged  by  a 
single  significant  fact.  In  1734,  Charles  of  Bourbon  had 
occasion  to  go  from  the  mainland  to  Palermo,  but  he  pro- 
ceeded all  the  way  by  sea,  "as  the  proposal  of  a  land  jour- 
ney was  frustrated  by  the  rugged  nature  of  the  country, 
which  was  wild  and  almost  uninhabited.  "^  Obviously,  the 
average  eighteenth-century  tourist  could  not  hope  to 
travel  more  easily  than  a  prince  in  his  own  dominions. 



The  roads  of  Germany  were  notoriously  bad.  Complaints 
about  them  were  incessant;  and  although  much  labor  was 
spent  upon  them  in  the  later  years  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury,^ there  was  so  much  to  be  done  that  the  comments  of 
tourists  were  justly  severe.'*  In  the  eighteenth  century,  as 
in  our  time,  Germany  had  great  and  splendid  cities,  but 
not  until  1753  was  the  first  scientifically  constructed  road 



built.  Misson  found  the  roads  between  Cologne  and  Mainz 
so  bad  that  he  went  by  the  Rhine  "notwithstanding  the 
extreme  slowness  of  the  passage."  ^  In  speaking  of  the 
road  between  Augsburg  and  Munich  he  says:  "The  country 
is  extremely  rough  for  coaches,  by  the  straight  road;  they 
are  very  apt  to  overturn,  and  the  passengers  are  often  con- 
strain'd  to  alight,  by  reason  of  the  continual  ascending  and 
descending  among  the  mountains."  ^  From  Nuremberg 
the  roads  were  "very  bad  and  woody  till  you  come  towards 
Ingolstadt."  "Our  journey  along  the  Rhine,"  says  Breval, 
"thro'  the  extreme  badness  of  the  ways,  tho'  in  the  midst 
of  Summer,  took  us  up  two  whole  days  between  Shaffhouse 
and  Augst."  ^ 

In  the  same  tenor  Nugent  cautions  travelers:  "The 
roads  in  general  are  very  indifferent,  which  makes  it  down- 
right misery  to  travel  in  bad  weather."  *  Post-wagons,  he 
says,  do  not  make  over  eighteen  miles  a  day.  The  fastidious 
Duke  of  Hamilton  traveled  in  company  with  Dr.  Moore, 
who  wrote  an  account  of  their  journeys.  In  going  from 
Frankfort  to  Cassel  they  arrived  at  midnight  of  the  second 
day.  "As  the  ground  is  quite  covered  with  snow,  the  roads 
bad,  and  the  posts  long,  we  were  obliged  to  take  six  horses 
for  each  chaise,  which,  after  all,  in  some  places,  moved  no 
faster  than  a  couple  of  hearses."  Moore  interjects  a  word 
of  comment  on  "the  phlegm  and  obstinacy  of  German 
postillions,  of  which  one  who  has  not  travelled  in  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  winter,  and  when  the  roads  are  covered  with 
snow,  through  this  country,  can  form  no  idea."  ^ 

Another  tourist  says  that  ten  hours  were  required  to  go 
the  thirty-six  miles  from  Limburg  to  Frankfort-on-the- 
Main.®  As  late  as  1826  the  Englishman  Russell  pronounced 
some  portions  of  the  road  from  Magdeburg  to  Berlin  "the 
worst  in  Europe,"  —  an  "unceasing  pull  through  loose 
dry  sand,  which  rises  to  the  very  nave  of  the  wheel."  ^ 
The  same  conditions  obtained  about  Hanover.  "Scarcely 
out  of  the  gates  of  Hanover,  and  the  wheels  already  drowned 
in  sand  up  to  the  axle-tree."  ^ 

The  roads  in  Austria  were,  in  some  districts,  better  than 



in  regions  farther  west,  but  a  tourist  seeking  an  impassable 
highway  could  safely  count  on  finding  one.  In  going,  as 
late  as  1798,  from  Lobositz  to  Aussig,  writes  Mariana 
Starke,  "the  lightest  vehicle  can  scarcely  escape  over- 
turning, unless  held  up  by  men.  .  .  .  Two  persons  who 
went  in  carriages  at  the  same  time  with  us  broke  blood- 
vessels, while  others  were  over-turned,  and  nearly  killed 
with  fatigue."  ^ 

After  this  recital,  which  could  be  indefinitely  extended, 
of  the  difficulties  attending  travel  on  German  roads,  we 
may  with  little  hesitation  agree  with  a  tourist  in  Germany 
at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  that  "the  manner  of 
travelling  ...  is  more  inconvenient  than  in  any  other 
part  of  Europe  equally  civilized.  Intercommunication  is 
therefore  greatly  impeded  and  in  the  winter  months  totally 
interrupted."  ^ 


The  Low  Countries 

In  the  Low  Countries,  particularly  in  Flanders,  the  roads 
appear  to  have  been  very  good  except  in  some  of  the  less 
frequented  parts. ^  The  slight  elevation  of  the  land  offered 
small  obstacles  to  the  building  of  thoroughfares  that  went 
with  undeviating  directness  from  one  town  to  another.  In 
multitudes  of  instances  the  road  ran  beside  the  canal  and 
served  both  as  a  towpath  and  a  highway  for  general  traffic. 
Very  commonly,  as  we  may  see  in  the  pictures  of  Hobbema, 
the  roads  were  planted  with  two  rows  of  trees  and  main- 
tained in  excellent  condition.  James  Essex,  who  toured  in 
France  and  the  Low  Countries  in  1773,  went  from  Antwerp 
by  way  of  Mechlin  to  Brussels  and  notes  in  his  "Journal": 
"The  Roads  are  worth  the  notice  of  a  Traveler,  being  made 
through  the  most  delightfull  inclosed  Country  that  can  be 
immagined,  it  is  paved  in  the  middle,  as  well  as  the  best 
streets  in  London,  and  kept  in  better  repair."  * 




France  *- 

The  means  of  transportation  in  France  in  the  eighteenth 
century  were  often  praised,  even  by  foreigners;  and  we  have 
already  seen  that  the  French  highways  were  among  the 
best  in  Europe.  "TravelHng,"  says  Nugent,  "is  no  where 
more  convenient  than  in  France,  with  respect  as  well  to 
carriages  as  accommodations  on  the  road.  Where  there  is 
conveniency  of  rivers,  they  have  water  carriages,  which 
are  large  boats  drawn  by  horses.  Their  land  carriages  are 
of  four  sorts,  \'iz.  post  chaises,  the  carossc  or  stage-coach, 
the  cocJic,  and  the  diligence  or  flying-coach."  ^  He  might 
have  added  the  berline,  a  four-wheeled  vehicle  ^'ith  a 
hooded  seat  behind,  which  was  said  to  be  very  comfortable.' 

Yet  English  travelers  of  all  classes  find  much  to  criticize 
in  the  vehicles  offered  for  hire  in  France.  It  must  be  con- 
fessed that  most  countries  of  Europe  were  not  so  well  pro- 
vided, but  the  development  of  facilities  for  travel  in  France 
had  been  somewhat  slow.  "As  late  as  1686  there  was  be- 
tween Rouen  and  Havre  but  one  carriage  for  hire,  which 
was  covered  with  canvas  '  and  was  neither  decent  nor 
comfortable."  *  An  Englishman  in  the  last  quarter  of  the 
seventeenth  century  summarized  his  impression  of  French 
horses  and  vehicles  in  the  following  terms:  "Their  horses 
[are]  little,  and  so  strangely  put  together  that  scarce  any 
of  them  can  either  trot  or  gallop,  and  'tis  easier  to  teach 
an  English  horse  to  dance  than  one  of  them  to  amble,  for 
they  can  only  go  the  pas,  whence  their  coaches  and  all 
manner  of  voiture,  is  so  slow  as  'tis  intolerable."* 

And  another  English  tourist  nearly  a  century  later  ob- 



serves:  "The  French  vehicles  for  travelling  appear  very- 
unpromising  to  an  Englishman:  their  timbers  seem  to  con- 
stitute a  sufficient  load  without  the  passengers  or  the  bag- 
gage, especially  as  the  French  horses  are  but  small;  and 
their  springs,  which  are  placed  behind  to  diminish  the  shocks 
upon  the  stone  pavements  of  their  great  roads,  very  much 
resemble  the  hammers  of  a  fulling-mill."  ' 

The  same  traveler  remarks  upon  his  journey  from  Saint- 
Omer  to  Lisle:  "In  the  shafts  of  our  chaise  they  place  a 
horse  of  the  cart  breed,  but  below  the  size  of  our  drawing 
horses,  harnessed  with  ropes  and  a  great  wooden  collar. 
By  the  sides  of  the  shaft-horse  are  two  ponies,  on  one  of 
which  the  postilion  rides,  with  boots,  literally  as  big  as  two 
oyster-barrels,  and  armed  with  hoops  of  iron,  to  save  his 
leg  in  case  of  accidents."  ^ 

So,  too,  Mrs.  Piozzi  says  that  at  Calais  the  "postillions 
with  greasy  night-caps  and  vast  jack-boots,  driving  your 
carriage  harnessed  with  ropes,  and  adorned  with  sheep- 
skins, can  never  fail  to  strike  an  Englishman  at  his  first 
visit  abroad."  ' 

But  notwithstanding  some  weak  spots  in  the  system, 
the  public  transportation  service  in  France  in  the  eighteenth 
century  was  fairly  satisfactory.  Dr.  Rigby,  in  1789,  re- 
marks in  a  letter  from  Chantilly:  "Yesterday  we  travelled 
more  than  ninety  miles  with  perfect  ease;  the  roads  are 
most  excellent;  the  horses  are  good  for  travelling,  I  really 
think  better  than  the  English,  but  they  are  all  rough,  with 
long  manes  and  tails,  and  no  trimmed  or  cropped  ears, 
which  I  believe  makes  the  English  abuse  them."  *  One 
could  with  little  difficulty  find  a  conveyance  making  regular 
trips  from  most  places  of  any  size  and  connecting  with  all 
parts  of  the  kingdom,  and  one  could  at  most  posting-houses 
find  a  chaise  for  one's  personal  use.  For  long  journeys,  as, 
for  instance,  between  Calais  and  Paris  or  Paris  and  Lyons, 
unless  the  traveler  could  afford  his  own  carriage,  he  com- 
monly went  in  the  diligence,^  "so  called  from  its  expedi- 
tion." "This,"  says  Nugent,  "differs  from  the  carosse  or 
ordinary  stage-coach  in  little  else  but  in  moving  with  greater 



velocity,"  *  and  in  maldng  from  "seventy  to  a  hundred 
miles  a  day."'  "But,"  objects  Smollett,  "the  inconven- 
iences attending  this  way  of  travelling  are  these.  You  are 
crowded  into  the  carriage  to  the  number  of  eight  persons 
so  as  to  sit  very  uneasy,  and  sometimes  run  the  risk  of 
being  stifled  among  very  indifferent  company.  You  are 
hurried  out  of  bed  at  four,  three,  nay  often  at  two  in  the 
morning.^  You  are  obliged  to  eat  in  the  French  way.  which 
is  very  disagreeable  to  an  English  palate."  *  Arthur  Ycning, 
too.  notes  in  his  "Travels  in  France":^  "This  is  the  first 
French  diligence  I  have  been  in,  and  shall  be  the  last;  they 
are  detestable." 

Well  on  in  the  nineteenth  century  Bayard  Taylor,  though 
not  particularly  fastidious,  agrees  perfectly  with  Young. 
"After  waiting  an  hour  in  a  hotel  beside  the  rushing  Yonne, 
a  liunbering  diligence  was  got  ready,  and  we  were  offered 
places  to  Paris  for  seven  francs.  As  the  distance  is  one 
hundred  and  ten  miles,  this  would  be  considered  cheap  fare, 
but  I  should  not  want  to  travel  it  again  and  be  paid  for 
doing  so.  Twelve  persons  were  packed  into  a  box  not  large 
enough  for  a  cow."  *  For  many  travelers,  however,  the 
advantages  of  a  system  of  transportation  that  was  inex- 
pensive and  relieved  them  of  all  responsibility  outweighed 
the  discomfort. 

More  than  one  tourist  has  left  us  a  strildng  pictm-e  of  this 
mountainous  and  un\\-ieldy  vehicle.  —  "a  huge,  rickety, 
shabby,  yellow  argosy,  all  over  dried,  dirty  mud  splashes."  ' 
Edward  Wright,  who  traveled  in  France  toward  the  end 
of  the  first  quarter  of  the  century,  says  of  it:  "The  dili- 
gence, a  great  coach  that  holds  eight  persons,  is  a  machine 
that  has  not  its  name  for  nothing;  what  it  wants  in  quick- 
ness it  makes  up  in  assiduity;  though  by  the  help  of  eight 
mules  which  drew  it,  we  sometimes  went  at  a  brisk  pace  too; 
ha\'ing  pass'd  from  Lyons  to  Marseilles,  which  they  call 
a  hundred  leagues,  in  three  days  and  a  half."  ^ 

"The  stage-coach  or  diligence  used  in  this  country,"  says 
Nugent,  "is  much  more  convenient  than  those  in  England. 
It  has  eight  chairs,  neither  of  which  touch  one  another,  for 


A    nifJfiFCNCE 


the  passcn^'crs  to  sit  in;  and  each  chair  has  a  sash-window 
to  put  up  and  take  the  air,  or  shut,  as  the  passen^fcr  pleases. 
No  body  rides  with  their  face  backwards,  but  turned  toward 
the  horses.  They  chan^'c  horses  every  twelve  miles,'  and 
go  sometimes  ninety  or  one  hundred  miles  a  day."  * 

The  diligence  grew  in  bulk  and  in  massiveness  until  it 
was  as  large  as  an  ordinary  load  of  hay,  carried  twenty  or 
thirty  passengers,  and  weighed  five  tons.^    The  equipment 
of  this  huge  machine  always  included  a  conductor  and  a 
postilion.    At  the  opening  of  the  nineteenth  century  John 
Carr  pictures  the  overgrown  vehicle  of  his  day  going  be- 
tween Cherbourg  and  Rouen:  "At  daybreak  we  seated 
ourselves  in  the  diligence.    All  the  carriages  of  this  descrip- 
tion have  the  appearance  of  being  the  result  of  the  earliest 
efforts  in  the  art  of  coach  building.    A  more  uncouth  clumsy 
machine  can  scarcely  be  imagined."    In  the  front  is  a  cabri- 
olet fixed  to  the  body  of  the  coach,  for  the  accommodation 
of  three  passengers,  who  are  protected  from  the  rain  above 
by  the  projecting  roof  of  the  coach,  and  in  front  by  two 
heavy  curtains  of  leather,  well  oiled,  and  smelling  some- 
what offensively,  fastened  to  the  roof.    The  inside,  which 
is  capacious  and  lofty,  and  will  hold  six  people  with  great 
comfort,  is  lined  with  leather  padded,  and  surrounded  with 
little  pockets,  in  which  the  travellers  deposit  their  bread, 
snuff,  night  caps  and  pocket  handkerchiefs,  which  generally 
enjoy  each  others'  company  in  the  same  delicate  depositary. 
From  the  roof  depends  a  large  net  work,  which  is  generally 
crowded  with  hats,  swords,  and  band-boxes;  the  whole  is 
convenient,  and  when  all  parties  are  seated  and  arranged, 
the  accommodations  are  by  no  means  unpleasant.     Upon 
the  roof,  on  the  outside,  is  the  imperial,  which  is  generally 
filled  with  six  or  seven  persons  more,  and  a  heap  of  luggage, 
which  latter  also  occupies  the  basket,  and  generally  pre- 
sents a  pile,  half  as  high  again  as  the  coach,  which  is  se- 
cured by  ropes  and  chains,  tightened  by  a  large  iron  wind- 
lass,  which  also  constitutes  another  appendage  of  this 
moving   mass.      The    body    of    the    carriage    rests    upon 
large   thongs   of   leather,   fastened    to    heavy    blocks    of 



wood,  instead  of  springs,  and  the  whole  is  drawn  by  seven 
horses."  ^ 

The  charge  for  transportation  in  the  diligence 
often  included  all  the  expenses  of  the  traveler  on 
the  way.^ 

Besides  the  diligence,  we  note  as  public  conveyances  the 
carosse  and  the  coche.  "The  carosse,"  says  Nugent,  "is 
not  unlike  our  stage-coach,  containing  room  for  six  pas- 
sengers, but  does  not  move  so  quick,  and  is  more  emljiar- 
rassed  with  goods  and  baggage.  The  coche  is  a  large  heavy 
machine,  which  serves  the  use  both  of  waggon  and  coach; 
it  is  long-shaped,  and  provided  with  windows  at  the  sides, 
containing  generally  sixteen  passengers,  viz.,  twelve  in  the 
body  of  the  coach,  sitting  two  abreast,  and  two  each  side 
at  the  door  of  the  entrance,  a  seat  being  provided  there  for 
that  purpose.  It  is  furnished  with  two  large  conveniencies, 
one  before  and  another  behind,  which  are  made  of  basket 
wicker,  and  are  therefore  called  baskets.  Into  these  bas- 
kets they  put  large  quantities  of  goods,  which  makes  it 
very  heavy  in  drawing.  Sometimes  both  the  baskets  are 
filled  with  goods,  and  sometimes  the  fore  one  is  left 
empty  for  passengers,  in  which  the  fare  is  less  than  in  the 
coach,  and  they  have  a  covering  overhead  to  preserve 
them  from  the  injury  of  the  weather.  Its  motion  is  but 
slow,  seldom  exceeding  that  of  a  brisk  walk,  and  as  the 
roads  are  generally  paved  with  large  stone,  this  kind  of 
vehicle  is  generally  very  jumbling  and  disagreeable.^  The 
expence  of  travelling  with  the  carosse  or  stage-coach  is 
less  than  half  the  sum  of  riding  post,  but  then  you  are  to 
make  an  allowance  for  being  longer  upon  the  road.  As 
for  the  particular  fares  of  stage-coaches,  we  shall  mention 
them  in  each  journey ;  only  we  are  to  observe  here  that  the 
expence  of  baggage  is  paid  apart,  and  is  generally  three  sols 
for  every  pound  above  fourteen  or  fifteen  pound  weight, 
which  is  free.  With  regard  to  provisions  on  the  road,  your 
safest  way,  if  you  travel  post,  is  to  know  the  price  of  every- 
thing before  you  order  it;  but  with  the  stage-coach,  your 
meals  are  generally  regulated  at  fixed  prices,  as  with  us; 



your  entertainment  is  exceeding  good,  and  the  whole  ex- 
pence  seldom  exceeds  five  or  six  livres  a  day."  ' 

But  as  the  route  of  the  diligence  and  the  stage-coach  was 
fixed,  there  was  sometimes  an  advantage  in  being  able  to 
direct  one's  own  course,  and  to  make  use  of  a  voiturin, 
who  represented  in  France  the  familiar  vetturino  system  of 
Italy.  "These  voiturins,"  says  Smith,  "are  to  be  met  with 
throughout  Italy  and  the  south  of  France.  They  under- 
take the  conveyance  of  a  traveller,  for  a  certain  sum,  in  a 
fixed  time,  to  the  place  of  his  destination;  and,  if  desired, 
will  pay  all  his  expenses  at  the  inns  by  the  way;  which  we 
afterwards  found  is  the  best  method.  This  mode  is  much 
cheaper,  and  infinitely  less  embarrassing,  than  travelling 
post.  It  requires,  indeed,  very  early  rising,  and  is  very 
slow;  but  the  latter  was  no  objection  to  us,  as  we  could 
alight  at  pleasure  to  botanize,  and  walk  full  as  fast  as 
our  horses  or  mules,  till  we  were  tired."  2 

But  a  great  number  of  tourists  elected  to  go  by  post. 
From  "Calais  to  this  place,  Lyons,"  writes  the  Earl  of 
Cork  and  Orrery,  "we  have  passed  most  of  our  time  in  post- 
chaises."  3  All  the  main  roads  throughout  the  kingdom 
were  minutely  divided  by  the  government  into  posting- 
stages."  At  the  posting-houses  one  might  expect  to  find 
horses,  and  usually  carriages,  for  hire  at  a  fixed  rate.^ 
Wealthy  travelers  of  the  nobility  or  of  some  importance 
used  to  be  preceded  by  an  avant-courier  who  would  order 
horses  to  be  in  waiting  for  them.^  But  at  Mirepoix,  a  town 
of  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants,  Arthur  Young  could  find 
no  carriages  at  all  for  hire.^ 

As  the  posting-service  was  strictly  regulated,  the  guide- 
books gave  minute  directions  to  the  tourist,  just  landed  at 
Calais,  as  to  what  he  should  do:  "At  the  post  house,  which 
is  the  Silver  Lion,  kept  by  Mr.  Grandsire,  you  bargain  for 
a  chaise  to  go  to  Paris;  if  there  be  only  one  person,  he 
will  let  you  have  a  pretty  good  one  for  two  guineas  and  a 
half;  and  if  two,  he  will  have  three  guineas.  You  have 
the  privilege  of  carrying  a  great  weight  of  portmanteaus 
and  trunks  behind  your  post-chaise;   but  their  horses  are 



very  indifferent,  so  that  it  is  not  advisable  to  encumber 
3^ourself  with  too  much  baggage,  but  rather  to  send  it  by 
the  stage-coach,  which  sets  out  twice  a  week  from  Calais 
to  Paris,  and  is  seven  days  upon  the  road;  the  fare  is  thirty 
livres  for  each  passenger,  and  three  sols  per  pound  for  his 
baggage.  The  coach  from  Paris  to  Calais  and  Dunkirk 
sets  up  at  the  Grand  Cerf,  rue  S.  Denis.  The  roads  from 
Calais  to  Paris  are  pretty  good;  and  you  go  with  any  of 
their  post-horses  very  near  a  post  an  hour.  .  .  .  ^rom 
Calais  to  Paris  are  thirty-two  posts.  .  .  .  Upon  the  whole, 
for  the  thirty-two  posts  you  pay,  if  you  are  two  in  com- 
pany, 164  livres,  two  sols,  which  is  about  61.  i6s.  6d.  But  if 
you  are  single,  the  whole  cost  will  be,  horses  and  boys  only 
99  livres,  two  sols,  which  is  about  4/.  65.  gVzd.  English."  ^ 

On  the  matter  of  posting  Smollett  gives  also  his  experi- 
ence, and  adds  that  posting  in  England  is  pleasanter,  with 
less  imposition  and  expense:-  "The  post  is  farmed  from 
the  king,  who  lays  travellers  under  contribution  for  his 
own  benefit,  and  has  published  a  set  of  oppressive  ordi- 
nances, which  no  stranger  nor  native  dares  transgress.  The 
postmaster  finds  nothing  but  horses  and  guides:  the  car- 
riage you  yourself  must  provide.  If  there  are  four  persons 
within  the  carriage,  you  are  obliged  to  have  six  horses 
and  two  postillions;  and  if  your  servant  sits  on  the  out- 
side, either  before  or  behind,  you  must  pay  for  a  seventh. 
You  pay  double  for  the  first  stage  from  Paris,  and  twice 
double  for  passing  through  Fontainebleau  when  the  court 
is  there,  as  well  as  at  coming  to  Lyons,  and  at  leaving  this 
city."  3 

Of  posting  in  1739  we  have  a  sketch  by  the  poet  Gray, 
who  was  going  from  Calais  to  Boulogne:  "In  the  after- 
noon we  took  a  post-chaise  (it  still  snowing  very  hard)  for 
Boulogne,  which  was  only  eighteen  miles  farther.  This 
chaise  is  a  strange  sort  of  conveyance,  of  much  greater  use 
than  beauty,  resembling  an  ill-shaped  chariot,  only  with 
the  door  opening  before  instead  of  the  side;  three  horses 
draw  it,  one  between  the  shafts,  and  the  other  two  on  each 
side,  on  one  of  which  the  postillion  rides,  and  drives  too. 




This  vehicle  will,  upon  occasion,  go  fourscore  miles  a  day, 
but  Mr.  Walpole,  being  in  no  hurry,  chooses  to  make  easy 
journeys  of  it,  and  they  are  easy  ones  indeed;  for  the 
motion  is  much  like  that  of  a  sedan.  We  go  about  six 
miles  an  hour,  and  commonly  change  horses  at  the  end  of 
it.  It  is  true  they  are  no  very  graceful  steeds,  but  they  go 
well,  and  through  roads  which  they  say  are  bad  for  France, 
but  to  me  they  seem  gravel  walks  and  bowling  greens;  in 
short,  it  would  be  the  finest  travelling  in  the  world  were  it 
not  for  the  inns,  which  are  mostly  terrible  places  indeed."  * 

Posting  certainly  had  some  inconveniences,  and  com- 
plaints were  frequent  that  the  charges  were  excessive. 
But  for  the  tourist  of  comfortable  income  it  appears  to  have 
been  the  most  satisfactory  means  of  travel  in  France. ^ 
When  Morris  Birkbeck  was  in  France  in  1 8 14,  his  party  was 
not  at  first  entirely  pleased  with  the  system,  but  after- 
wards "found  posting  not  so  inconvenient  or  expensive. 
If  you  take  your  own  voiture,  or  hire  one  for  the  journey, 
you  escape  the  miserable  cabriolets  provided  by  the  post- 
masters, and  the  trouble  of  changing  every  seven  or  ten 
miles.  You  may  take  also  two  horses  at  forty  sous  each 
instead  of  three  at  thirty  sous ;  and  you  save  thirty  sous  a 
stage,  which  is  charged  when  they  furnish  a  carriage.  With 
these  precautions,  there  is  not  much  room  to  complain  of 
French  posting."  ' 

To  avoid  a  succession  of  uncomfortable  carriages  Smol- 
lett's suggestion  was  worth  heeding.  "I  would  advise 
every  man  who  travels  through  France  to  bring  his  own 
vehicle  along  with  him,  or  at  least  to  purchase  one  at 
Calais  or  Boiilogne,  where  second-hand  berlins  or  chaises 
may  generally  be  had  at  reasonable  rates."  * 

Hired  private  coaches  were  an  expensive  luxury,  drawn 
as  they  were  by  four  or  six  horses,  and  accompanied  by  two 
postilions.  One's  private  servant  often  attended  on  horse- 
back or  on  the  coach.  Smollett  when  in  Paris  looked  into 
the  means  of  conveyance  to  the  south  of  France.  "When 
I  went  to  the  bureau,  where  alone  these  voitures  are  to  be 
had,  I  was  given  to  understand  that  it  would  cost  me  six- 



niid-twcnty  i;;iuiions,  atid  travel  so  slow  that  I  .should  be  ton 
days  upon  the  road.  These  carriages  are  let  by  the  same 
persons  who  fami  the  diligence;  and  for  this  they  have  an 
exclusive  privilege,  which  makes  them  very  saucy  and  in- 
solent. When  I  mentioned  my  servant,  they  gave  me  to 
understand  that  I  must  pay  two  loui'dorcs  more  for  his 
seat  upon  the  coach  box."  * 

So  ponderous  were  the  French  coaches  that  one  ran  the 
risk  of  being  set  on  fire  several  times  a  day  by  the  friction 
of  the  wheels.^  Besides  this,  there  was  often  friction  of 
another  sort,  as  we  see  from  the  following  delicious  passage : 
"  Through  the  whole  south  of  France,  except  in  large  cities," 
Smollett  found  "the  postilions  lazy,  lounging,  greedy,  and 
impertinent.  If  you  chide  them  for  lingering,  they  will 
continue  to  delay  you  the  longer :  if  you  chastise  them  with 
sword,  cane,  cudgel,  or  horse-whip.'  they  will  either  dis- 
appear entirely,  and  leave  you  without  resources;  or  they 
will  find  means  to  talce  vengeance  by  overturning  your 
carriage.  The  best  method  I  know  of  travelling  with  any 
degree  of  comfort,  is  to  allow  yourself  to  become  the  dupe 
of  imposition,  and  stimulate  their  endeavors  by  extraor- 
dinary gratifications.  I  laid  down  a  resolution  (and  kept 
it)  to  give  no  more  than  four  and  twent}^  sols  per  post  be- 
tween the  twi>  postilions;  but  I  am  now  persuaded  that 
for  throo-ponco  a  post  more.  I  should  have  been  much 
better  served,  and  should  have  performed  the  journey  mth 
greater  pleasure."  ' 

However  one  might  travel  from  place  to  place,  a  tourist 
of  any  pretensions  was  expected  in  any  of  the  larger  cities 
of  the  Continent  to  keep  a  carriage  as  a  visible  token  of  his 
respectability.  For  example,  on  going  to  Paris  after  having 
subnntlod  to  the  "absolutely  requisite"  French  tailor  and 
barber,  "the  next  thing  is  to  get  a  convenicney  to  carry 
you  abroad,  that  you  may  with  elegance  and  ease  go  and 
see  every  thing  that  is  curious'in  and  about  Paris.  Your 
best  way  is  to  have  a  recommendation  to  some  of  those 
people  who  let  coaches  out  to  hire ;  and  if  you  are  only  two 
in  company,  a  chaiiot  is  most  advisable.    You  may  have  a 



gay  and  easy  gilt  coach  or  chariot,  and  a  coachman,  with  a 
good  pair  of  horses,  for  twelve  livres,  which  is  about  ten 
shiHings  a  day,  to  attend  you  from  seven  in  the  morning  till 
midnight,  and  to  carry  you  to  Versailles,  etc.  This  is 
certainly  the  best  way,  because  their  hackney-coaches  arc 
dirty  and  mean,  and  few  people  of  any  fashion,  especially 
strangers,  either  use  them  or  walk  much  in  the  streets. 
It  is  to  be  observed  that  you  must  sign  a  contract  for  your 
coach  or  chariot,  to  have  it  a  month  as  your  own;  the 
lawyer  or  notary  draws  the  contract  by  the  coach-lender's 
orders,  and  you  pay  five  shillings  for  his  fee  and  one  shil- 
ling for  his  clerk,  who  attends  you  to  get  it  signed.  This 
contract  the  coachman  carries  in  his  pocket,  to  entitle  him 
to  drive  you  out  of  town  to  Versailles,  etc.,  for  without  it 
the  coach  is  not  privileged  to  carry  you  out  of  the  gates 
of  Paris.'  But  tho'  you  contract  for  a  month  for  the 
sake  of  this  privilege,  yet  you  may  give  up  your  coach 
at  the  end  of  ten  days,  or  a  fortnight,  paying  for  the 
days  you  have  had  it ;  and  a  fortnight  will  be  long  enough 
to  carry  you  to  most  of  the  places  you  want  to  see  in  and 
about  Paris."  ^ 

For  going  short  distances,  particularly  when  attending 
a  social  gathering  in  full  dress,  the  tourist  in  more  than 
one  Continental  city  found  a  sedan  chair  useful.  But, 
obviously,  this  was  a  convenience  of  very  limited  range. 



From  what  has  been  said  of  the  Italian  roads  it  is  obvious 
that  none  but  a  very  substantial  conveyance  could  be 
trusted  to  bring  the  traveler  safely  to  his  destination. 
What  the  carriages  were  like  we  learn  from  many  descrip- 
tions. Now  and  then,  as  in  France,  the  tourist  ventured  to 
travel  in  his  own  private  vehicle.  In  such  a  case,  Baretti 
recommends  that  "a  traveller  ought  to  have  his  post-chaise 
not  only  strongly  built  to  resist  the  many  stony  roads  in 



Italy,  but  likewise  have  it  so  contrived  as  to  be  easily  taken 
to  pieces  where  it  must  inevitably  be  disjoined  in  order  to 
pass  a  mountain  or  to  be  put  into  a  felucca;  that  is,  in  going 
over  mount  Cenis,  or  from  some  part  of  southern  France  to 
Genoa."  ^ 

In  more  detail  Mariana  Starke  advises  that  "those  Per- 
sons who  design  to  travel  much  in  Italy  should  provide 
themselves  with  a  strong,  low-hung,  doubled-perched  Eng- 
lish coach  or  post-chaise,  with  well-seasoned  corded  springs," 
and  iron  axle-trees,  two  drag-chains  with  iron  shoes,  ... 
tools  for  repairing  ...  a  carriage,  ...  a  sword-case  .  .  . 
two  moderate-sized  trunks,"  ^  etc. 

Arthur  Young,  however,  was  warned  by  men  who  had 
traveled  much  in  Italy,  that  he  must  not  think  of  going 
thither  in  his  own  one-horse  chaise.*  "To  watch  my 
horse  being  fed  would,  they  assured  me,  take  up  abundantly 
too  much  time,  and  if  it  was  omitted,  with  respect  to  hay, 
as  well  as  oats,  both  would  be  equally  stolen.  There  are 
also  parts  of  Italy  where  travelling  alone,  as  I  did,  would  be 
very  unsafe,  from  the  number  of  robbers  that  infest  the 
roads.  Persuaded  by  the  opinions  of  persons,  who  I  sup- 
pose must  know  much  better  than  myself,  I  had  determined 
to  sell  my  mare  and  chaise,  and  travel  in  Italy  by  the 
veturini,  who  are  to  be  had  it  seems  everywhere,  and  at  a 
cheap  rate."  ^ 

When  he  arrived  at  Toulon,  Young  accordingly  tagged 
his  chaise  with  a  large  label,  "A  vendre,"  and  finally  sold 
it  and  his  mare  for  twenty-two  louis  —  ten  louis  less  than 
they  had  cost  him  at  Paris.  "I  had  next  to  consider  the 
method  to  get  to  Nice  [from  Toulon];  and  will  it  be  be- 
lieved, that  from  Marseilles  with  100,000  souls,  and  Tou- 
lon with  30.000,  lying  in  the  great  road  to  Antibes,  Nice, 
and  Italy,  there  is  no  diligence  or  regular  voiture.  A  gen- 
tleman at  the  table  d'hdte  assured  me  they  asked  him 
three  louis  for  a  place  in  a  voiture  to  Antibes,  and  to  wait 
till  some  other  person  would  give  three  more  for  another 
seat.  To  a  person  accustomed  to  the  infinity  of  machines 
that  fly  about  England,  in  all  directions,  this  must  appear 



hardly  credible.  Such  great  cities  in  France  have  not  the 
hundredth  part  of  connection  and  communication  with 
each  other  that  much  inferior  places  enjoy  with  us."  ^ 

Obviously,  with  but  such  a  happy-go-lucky  system  on  a 
main  road  between  France  and  Italy,  nothing  better  could 
be  expected  on  the  less  traveled  roads  of  Italy  itself.  The 
ordinary  accommodations  are  briefly  outlined  by  Nugent 
in  the  "Grand  Tour."  ^  and  these  we  may  supplement  with 
more  detail:  "There  are  several  ways  of  travelHng  in 
Italy,  such  as  with  post-horses;  with  a  vettura  or  hired 
coach  or  calash  in  which  they  do  not  change  horses;  and, 
finally,  with  a  procaccio  or  stage-coach  that  undertakes 
to  furnish  passengers  with  provisions  and  necessary  accom- 
modations on  the  road.  Travelling  post  you  pay  five  julios 
a  horse  at  each  post  (a  julio  is  about  sixpence)  and  two 
julios  to  the  postilion.  The  price  of  the  vetturas  is  fixed 
differently  according  to  the  difference  of  province  or  road; 
and  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  procaccios,  which  is 
much  the  worst  way  of  travelling."  ' 

The  posting-system  had  the  convenience  of  permitting  the 
traveler  to  pay  his  way  to  the  place  he  wished  to  visit,* 
without  placing  upon  him  further  responsibility  for  the 
carriage  or  the  driver.  Well  organized  as  the  system  was, 
it  did  not,  however,  prevent  occasional  annoyance  that 
stirred  the  wrath  of  irritable  tourists.  "Of  all  the  people 
I  have  ever  seen,"  said  Smollett,  "the  hostlers,  postilions 
and  other  fellows,  hanging  about  the  post-houses  in  Italy, 
are  the  most  greedy,  impertinent,  and  provoking."  ^ 

Some  of  the  petty  regulations,  moreover,  were  un- 
questionably very  exasperating;  and  to  avoid  them  De  La 
Lande  advises  the  traveler  going  from  France  to  take  a 
carriage  straight  through  from  Lyons  to  Turin. ^  He 
remarks:  "It  is  a  rule  at  Chamb^ry,  as  in  the  rest  of  Italy, 
that  when  one  arrives  by  post  one  must  continue  in  the 
same  fashion  or  spend  three  nights  in  the  place  where  one 
arrives,  if  one  wishes  to  take  drivers."  ^  In  the  reverse 
direction,  "Post-masters  at  Turin  are  not  to  furnish  trav- 
ellers with  horses  without  a  licence  from  the  secretary  of 



state  for  forcii::n  aflairs;  and  those  in  the  pro\'inccs,  from 
the  governors  or  chief  magistrate  of  the  place.  No  person, 
w-ithout  a  particular  order,  is  permitted  to  ride  post  without 
a  postilion.  None  are  suffered  to  pass  by  a  post-house 
without  changing  horses,  or  to  go  beyond  the  frontiers  in 
any  other  carriage  but  the  usual  post- waggon.  It  is  an 
inconvenience  to  travellers,  that,  though  they  come  by 
the  post,  they  are  not  pennitted  to  proceed  in  another  car- 
riage without  staj-ing  three  days  in  the  place  whei^  the 
stage  sots  out  from."  ^ 

Sometimes  post-horses  were  lacldng,  as  was  once  the 
case  when  Dr.  Moore  was  in  a  hilly  district.  But  in  this 
instance  their  place  was  taken  by  "throe  cart-horses  and 
two  oxon,  which  wore  roliovod  in  the  most  mountainous 
part  of  the  road  by  bufTalos.  There  is  a  brood  of  these 
animals  in  this  country;  they  are  strong,  hardy,  and 
docile,  and  found  preferable  to  either  horses  or  oxon,  for 
ploughing  in  a  rough  and  hill}' country. "  ^  In  more  than  one 
part  of  the  country,  particularly  in  the  first  third  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  the  main  dependence,  indeed,  was  upon 
oxen  or  buffaloes.' 

All  in  all,  however,  in  the  second  half  of  the  century,  as 
Baretti  remarks,  "The  fact  is,  that  the  post-horses  are  in 
general  very  good  all  over  Italy,  and  that  our  postillions 
generally  drive  at  a  great  rate,  trotting  their  horses  on 
any  ascent,  and  galloping  on  flat  ground  rather  in  a  des- 
perado way  than  other\vise."  ■* 

Tourists  who  wished  to  escape  the  necessity  of  looldng  af- 
ter themselves  or  their  vehicle  commonly  arranged  matters 
with  a  vctturino  or  his  agent.  We  have  numerous  accounts 
of  the  journeys  talcen  in  this  way,  for  until  the  intro- 
duction of  railways  it  was  the  system  ordinarily  followed. 
Accounts  dating  from  the  early  nineteenth  century  agree 
in  general  vdth  those  of  a  century  or  two  earlier.*  Bayard 
Taylor  in  1845  went  in  substantially  the  same  fashion  as 
Alisson  in  the  seventeenth  century.  Says  Misson:  "We 
agreed  at  Rome  to  be  carried  in  calashes,  and  to  have  all 
our  charges  borne  dming  the  space  of  eleven  days,  from 



Rome  to  Florence,  by  the  way  of  Viterbo,  vSienna,  Leghorn, 
Pisa,  Lucca,  and  Pistoia,  for  six  Italian  pistoles  apiece; 
which  was  somewhat  too  dear  a  rate,  tho',  'tis  true,  calashes 
were  very  scarce  at  Rome  when  we  left  it."  ' 

Taylor,  in  his  turn,  remarks:  "Travelling  with  a  vetturino 
is  unquestionably  the  pleasantest  way  of  seeing  Italy.  The 
easy  rate  of  the  journey  allows  time  for  becoming  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  country,  and  the  tourist  is  freed  from  the 
annoyance  of  quarrelling  with  cheating  landlords.  A  trans- 
lation of  our  written  contract  will  best  explain  this  mode 
of  travelling :  '  Our  contract  is,  to  be  conducted  to  Rome  for 
the  sum  of  twenty  francs  each,  say  20/.  and  the  buona  mano, 
if  we  are  well  served.  We  must  have  from  the  vetturino, 
Giuseppe  Nerpiti,  supper  each  night,  a  free  chamber  with 
two  beds,  and  fire,  until  we  shall  arrive  at  Rome.  I  Gero- 
nymo  Sartarelli,  steward  of  the  Inn  of  the  White  Cross, 
at  Foligno,  in  testimony  of  the  above  contract.'"  * 

In  this  fashion  James  Edward  Smith  made  his  tour  in 
1786  from  Pisa  to  Florence  and  thence  to  Rome.  His 
carriage  had  two  wheels  and  a  speed  of  about  four  miles 
an  hour.  ' '  We  engaged  a  voiturin  to  convey  us  both  (from 
Pisa)  to  Florence,  forty-nine  miles,  for  fifty  pauls  (not 
twenty-five  shillings),  to  be  fed  Vjy  the  way  into  the  bar- 
gain. To  our  astonishment,  we  were  excellently  accom- 
modated ;  and  we  made  use  of  this  same  honest  fellow,  whose 
name  was  Diego  Baroncello,  to  carry  us  over  most  parts 
of  Italy .^    We  never  had  a  word  of  dispute  all  the  way."  * 

Most  tourists  who  could  afford  the  time  and  the  money 
went  as  far  as  Naples,  commonly  with  a  vetturino.  The 
invaluable  Misson  ^  tells  us:  "The  journey  from  Rome  to 
Naples  is  usually  perform'd  thus:  the  travellers  hire  either 
horses  or  carriages,  or  both  together,  that  they  may  have 
the  advantage  of  easing  themselves  by  change:  and  the 
person  with  whom  they  agree  at  Rome,  every  passenger 
paying  fifteen  piasters,^  obliges  himself  to  give  them  eight 
meals  in  their  journey  outwards,  and  as  many  in  their  re- 
turn; to  stay  five  whole  days  at  Naples,  to  pay  the  boat 
at  Cajeta,  to  lend  his  horses  one  day  to  Vesuvius,  and 



another  to  Puzzolo;  both  which  arc  comprehended  in  the 
five  to  be  spent  at  Naples.  Thus  the  whole  journey  is 
perfomi'd  in  fifteen  days;  on  the  last  of  which  they  retuni 
to  Rome." 

The  German  Keysler  finds  fault  with  the  price  and  the 
length  of  time  required  for  the  journey:  " In  travellini^  from 
Rome  to  Naples  it  is  very  inconvenient  to  go  with  the 
vetturini;  for  though  the  road  they  take  lies  over  Monte 
Cassino.  and  consequently  gives  one  an  opportunely  of 
seeing  the  celebrated  Benedictine  monastery  on  that  hill; 
yet  it  is  attended  with  the  mortification  of  being  five  days 
on  the  road  and  papng  the  vetturini  an  extraordinary 
price  for  their  loss  of  time.*  In  the  months  of  February 
and  March  a  person  must  be  very  expeditious  to  travel 
seven  stages  in  a  post-chaise  from  sun-rising  to  sunset; 
but  in  summer  the  seventeen  stages  and  a  half  between 
Rome  and  Naples  are  easily  performed  in  two  days.  For 
the  two  chaise-horses  at  every  stage  within  the  Neapolitan 
territories,  one  pays  eleven  carlini,  and  half  as  much  for 
the  chaise,  if  wanted."  ^ 

In  place  of  going  with  a  vctturino,  "It  is  more  adWsable," 
says  Nugent,  "to  make  use  of  the  procaccio^  or  ordinary 
carrier  from  Rome  to  Naples,  with  whom  they  ma>-  agree 
for  seven  crowns,  for  which  he  gives  them  seven  meals, 
and  carries  them  thither  in  five  days.  Those  who  chuse 
the  first  method  with  the  vetturino  are  obUged  to  come 
back  the  same  way  they  went,  which  is  not  so  agxeeable 
to  a  curious  traveller.  But  gentlemen  who  have  not  agreed 
with  the  carrier  may  in  their  return  leave  the  direct  road 
and  travel  further  within  land,  on  the  right  side  of  it, 
hiring  horses  from  to\NTi  to  town.  With  the  vetturino  from 
Rome  to  Naples,  you  pay  five  crowns  a  horse,  fifteen  for  a 
calash,  and  eighteen  for  a  litter.  The  road  is  generally  bad. 
and  the  accommodations  none  of  the  best."  ^ 

Obviously,  the  satisfaction  of  a  traveler  who  went  with 
a  vetturino  would  largely  depend  upon  the  fairness  and 
honesty  of  the  conductor.  An  unscrupulous  fellow  had 
it  in  his  power  to  cause  the  traveler  great  annoyance  and 



discomfort.     Nugent  gives  warning  that  if  the  coachman 
agrees  to  provide  the  food,  passengers  are  in  danger  of 
short  commons.     And  in  the  same  tenor  HazHtt  says:' 
"The  vetturino  owners  .  .  .  bargain  to  provide  you  for  a 
certain  sum  and  then  billet  you  upon  the  innkeepers  for 
as  httle  as  they  can."  ^    a  further  oh^jection,  says  Nugent, 
IS  that  the  "coachman  in  winter  travels  very  often  before 
It  IS  day,«  and  after  it  is  dark,  in  order  to  get  to  his  station 
where  he  expects  to  find  his  account  in  the  reckoning  "  * 
All  m  all,  says  Goethe,  "It  is  but  sorry  travelling  with  a 
vettunno,  it  is  always  best  to  follow  at  one's  ease  on  foot 
In  this  way  I  travelled  from  Ferrara  to  this  place"  s  — 
i.e.,  Assisi.     Of  course,  Goethe  was  a  poet  and  an  athlete 
m  the  pride  of  youth,  but  his  opinion  must  have  been  shared 
by  many  a  weary  traveler. 

With  all  its  drawbacks,  the  vetturino  system  afforded  a 
passable  means  of  conveyance.  One  other  system,  how- 
ever, was  preferred  by  many  travelers  on  account  of  its 
greater  independence.  But  Smollett,  as  we  might  expect, 
comments  upon  the  inconvenience «  of  frequently  shifting 
the  baggage,  and  bestows  a  characteristic  word  upon  the 
vehicle:  "The  chaise  or  calesse  of  this  country  is  a  wretched 
machine  with  two  wheels,  as  uneasy  as  a  common  cart, 
being  indeed  no  other  than  what  we  should  call  in  England 
a  very  ill-contrived  one-horse  chair,  narrow,  naked,  shat- 
tered and  shabby."  ' 

According  to  Misson «  the  shafts  of  the  Roman  calashes 
were  "at  least  fifteen  feet  long,  and  consequently  'tis  im- 
possible  to  turn  the  calash  in  a  narrow  way."  Even 
James  Edward  Smith  bestows  very  moderate  praise  upon 
the  calash.  "Nothing  is  more  ridiculous  to  an  English- 
man than  the  manner  of  driving  these  vehicles.  We 
were  allowed  only  to  hold  the  reins,  or  rather  ropes,  and 
our  dnver  stood  behind,  brandishing  the  whip  over  our 
heads."  9 

From  our  survey  it  is  clear  that  no  method  of  travel  in 
Italy  was  ideal.  But  on  the  whole  the  balance  seems  to 
be  m  favor  of  the  cambiaiura.    This,  too,  is  the  opinion  of 



Nu,i:ot\t.  whose  \\-ido  ox(>orionce  xway  he  allowed  to  count 
for  moa^  thati  the  utterances  of  tlie  ever-irritable  Stnollett. 
Nugent's  view,  tnoreover.  ajjjces  so  closely  with  Missou's 
that  he  has  borrowed  tnauy  of  the  older  writer's  very 
phrases.  "  But  to  return  to  the  carriaj^es;  tlie  best  way  .  .  . 
of  travellinij  in  this  country  is  with  the  cambiatura.  where 
it  can  be  had.  which  is  only  in  the  ecclesiastical  state,  in 
Tuscany,  and  in  the  dutchies  of  Partua  and  Modena.  The 
price  of  the  cambiat\ira  is  generally  at  the  rate  of  two^ulios 
a  horse  each  post.*  The  v:jcatest  conveniency  of  this  way 
of  travelliui^  is  that  you  may  stop  where  you  please,  and 
chaui^e  your  horses  or  calash  at  every  canibiatura.  without 
bein.i:  oblitred  to  pay  for  their  return,  and  besides  you  may 
take  what  time  you  please  to  satisfy  your  curiosity.  There 
is  room  for  two  people  in  a  calasli,  which  is  a  much  better 
way  of  travelliui::  than  on  horseback,  because  a  person  has 
the  advantage  of  being  skreened  from  the  sun  aiui  weather, 
and  he  is  allowed  to  carry  a  portmanteau  fastened  to  it  of 
200  weight.  But  'tis  proper  to  look  from  time  to  time  to 
the  portmanteau,  or  to  make  a  ser\'ant  follow  the  calash 
on  horseback,  in  order  to  take  qwe  of  the  baggage;  though 
this  trouble  may  in  great  measurc  be  prevented  by  fasten- 
ing the  portmanteau  to  the  calash  with  an  iron  chain  and 
a  padlock,  as  is  frequently  done  behind  post-chaises  in 
Germany.  The  t>*ing  and  untx-ing  of  the  portmanteau  at 
every  cambiatura  is  a  necessary  piece  of  trouble  that  at- 
tends this  way  of  travelling;  wherefore  those  who  have  a 
long  journey  to  make,  and  intend  not  to  stop  on  the  road, 
or  only  to  make  a  short  stay,  ought  always  to  agree  with 
one  Vetturino  for  the  whole  passage.  But  the  best  way  is 
to  have  a  calash  of  your  own." ' 



To  pass  from  the  well-ordered  system  of  transportation 
in  France  to  the  primitive  svstcm  of  Germany  seemed  to 




most  travelers  almost  like  j^oing  from  civilization  to  bar- 
barism. Even  Italy  sustainorl  without  much  difficulty  a 
comparison  with  Germany  in  this  particular. 

The  reasons  for  the  backward  condition  of  Germany  we 
have  considered  in  some  detail  elsewhere,  but  they  are 
worth  bearing  in  mind,  "Germany,"  says  Coj^an  at  the 
end  of  the  c-i^htcenth  century,  "is  but  thinly  inhabited  in 
proportion  to  its  ^reat  extent;  exceptinj.^  on  the  borders  of 
the  Rhine,  the  lar^e  towns  are  comparatively  few,  and  at  a 
great  distance  from  each  other;"'  and  by  Germany  he 
meant  not  only  what  we  now  call  Germany,  but  also  the 
Teutonic  regions  of  Austria.  Communication  at  a  distance 
was  extremely  difficult,  and  in  winter  practically  impossi- 
ble. The  natural  results  of  isolation  followed.  Particu-  held  sway  in  every  part  of  the  Empire.  Moreover, 
almost  every  detail  that  we  learn  about  German  life  in 
the  eighteenth  century  strengthens  the  conviction  that  for 
the  average  burgher  it  was  the  day  of  small  things.  Trade 
was  limited,  and  manufacturing  enterprises  were  few. 
Incentives  to  travel  for  business  or  for  pleasure  were,  in 
comparison  with  our  time,  strangely  lacking.  The  country 
in  various  parts  impressed  strangers  as  being  old-fashioned 
and  very  backward  in  its  ways.  Mariana  Starke,  in  going 
from  Italy  to  Vienna  in  1798,  oVjserved  that  "The  passing 
through  this  part  of  Germany  seenas  like  living  some 
hundred  years  ago  in  England;  as  the  dresses,  customs,  and 
manners  of  the  people  precisely  resemble  those  of  our  an- 
cestors." ^ 

Great  cities  there  were,  like  Berlin  and  Hamburg  and 
Leipsic  and  Vienna,  where  wealth  and  luxury  abounded, 
and  petty  courts  like  Anspach  and  Cassel  and  Karlsruhe 
at  least  suggested  the  lavish  display  of  Versailles,  but  the 
task  of  going  from  one  city  to  another  was  the  reverse  of 
inviting.  In  some  parts  of  Germany  where  one  might  rea- 
sonably have  expected  adequate  means  of  transportation, 
there  was  a  very  painful  lack.^  As  we  have  already  seen, 
the  roads  in  general  were  very  inferior,  making  "it  down- 
right misery  to  travel  in  bad  weather."  * 



In  selecting  the  means  of  transportation  the  choice  was 
between  the  rough,  clumsy  public  vehicles  and  one's  pri- 
vate carriage.  A  posting- wagon  meant  something  very 
different  in  Germany  from  what  it  did  in  France  or  even 
Italy,  and  was  practically  a  comfortless  sort  of  stage- 
coach. For  the  public  posting- wagons  of  Germany  no 
one  has  a  good  word.  Misson  calls  them  "a  miserable 
sort  of  cart,"  and  adds:  "They  often  move  very  slowly, 
but  to  make  amends,  they  jog  on  night  and  day.  This  is 
the  most  troublesome  of  all  carriages,  as  I  found  it  to  my 
cost."  1 

Travelers  throughout  the  eighteenth  century  and  even 
much  later  are  in  entire  accord  with  Misson.  Nugent  does, 
indeed,  say:  "There  is  no  country  in  Europe  where  the 
post  is  under  better  regulation  than  in  Germany,"  but  he 
immediately  adds:  "The  common  way  of  travelling  is  in 
machines  which  they  call  post-waggons,'^  and  which  very 
well  deserve  that  denomination.  These  are  little  better 
than  common  carts,  with  seats  made  for  the  passengers, 
without  any  covering,  except  in  Hesse  Cassel,  and  a  few 
other  places.  They  go  but  a  slow  pace,  not  much  above 
three  miles  an  hour,  and  what  is  stiirmore  inconvenient  to 
passengers,  they  jog  on  day  and  night,  winter  and  summer, 
rain  or  snow,  till  they  arrive  at  the  place  appointed.  .  .  . 
But  this  is  a  way  of  travelling  recommendable  to  those 
only  who  cannot  be  at  the  expense  of  a  more  commodious 
manner."  ^ 

If  the  three-mile  rate  had  been  actually  kept  up  day  and 
night,  one  would  of  course  have  covered  seventy  miles  or 
more  in  twenty-four  hours.  But  such  dizzy  speed  was  not 
always  possible,  and  sometimes  the  record  for  a  day  did 
not  exceed  eighteen  miles. 

As  for  the  companions  of  one's  journey  in  the  post-wagon 
some  travelers  are  not  over-enthusiastic.  "My  company 
consisted  of  a  swine  of  an  Oldenburgh  dealer  in  horses,  a 
clodpole  Bremen  broker,  and  a  pretty  female  piece  of 
flesh,  mere  dead  flesh,  lying  before  me  on  the  straw.  There 
was  not  a  word  spoke  all  the  way  from  Gottingen  here 



[Cassel],  so  that  if  the  dulcis  et  alia  quies  had  not  been  now 
and  then  interrupted  by  coughing,  sneezing,  belching,  and 
the  like,  I  should  not  have  known  that  I  had  company 
with  me."  * 

The  Englishman  Russell  traveling  in  Germany  in  1828 
found  the  post-wagon  to  be  still  of  the  eighteenth-century 
type.  In  going  through  the  Rhine  region  he  remarks: 
"What  the  Germans  call  a  DiUgence  or  Postwagen,  drag- 
ging its  slow  length  through  this  delicious  scene,  is'  a  bad 
feature  in  the  picture.  Much  as  we  laugh  at  the  meagre 
cattle,  the  knotted  rope-harness,  and  lumbering  paces  of 
the  machines  which  bear  the  same  name  in  France,  the 
French  have  outstripped  their  less  alert  neighbours  in 
everything  that  regards  neatness,  and  comfort,  and  expe- 
dition. The  German  carriage  resembles  the  French  one, 
but  is  still  more  clumsy  and  unwieldy."  2 

The  luggage,  towering  on  high  like  a  "castle"  as  large 
as  the  wagon  itself,  was  secured  by  chains.  Inside  the 
wagon  sat  six  passengers,  and  with  the  guard  sat  two  more. 
Four  horses  slowly  dragged  the  great  load,  while  from  all  the 
openings  of  the  vehicle  poured  out  in  dense  clouds  the  smoke 
of  vile  tobacco.  Naturally  enough,  the  Englishman  trav- 
eling for  pleasure  and  not  as  a  penance  was  warned  in 
advance  not  to  use  the  public  post- wagons.  "The  only 
way  of  travelling  with  comfort  through  Germany,"  says 
the  author  of  the  "Tour  in  Germany,"  ^  "is  in  a  chaise  of 
your  own  and  with  post-horses."  This  merely  repeats  the 
advice  of  Nugent,  who  points  out  that  "then  a  person  is 
at  liberty  to  stop  at  what  station  he  pleases,  and  as  long 
as  he  pleases."  ^  He  remarks,  too,  that  by  having  a  chaise 
to  one's  self  one  saves  "the  trouble  of  tying  and  untying 
the  baggage;  because  when  a  person  hires  a  chaise  of  the 
post-office,  he  must  change  it  at  every  stage,  which  is 
vastly  inconvenient."  ^ 

Sometimes  one  arranged  to  travel  in  a  post-chaise,  but 
bargained  to  have  all  expenses  on  the  road  covered  for  a 
fixed  sum.  With  an  arrangement  of  this  sort  Mariana 
Starke,  in  April  of  1798,  left  Florence  for  Dresden,  "with 



a  light  strong  German  post-chaise  unloaded,  and  a  Voi- 
turin's  coach  for  our  baggage,  each  carriage  being  usually 
drawn  by  three  mules ;  and  we  gave  for  six  of  these  animals, 
from  Florence  to  Hamburg,  three  hundred  and  thirty 
Tuscan  sequins;  the  Voiturin  finding  supper  and  beds  for 
four  Persons,  and  likewise  defraying  the  expense  of  bar- 
riers, ferry-boats,  guides,  drivers,  and  mules.  We  paid  a 
couple  of  florins  a  day  for  our  dinner,  and  one  florin  a  day 
to  servants  at  inns,  unless  our  carriages  were  guafded, 
when  we  usually  gave  two  florins,  and  we  allowed  three 
sequins  a  day  for  the  mules  whenever  we  chose  to  stop. 
Buonamano  to  the  drivers  was  not  included  in  our  bargain, 
and  to  these  men  (who  behaved  particularly  well)  we  gave 
sixty  sequins."  ^ 

Those  who  made  the  long  journey  from  Hamburg  to 
Vienna  —  nearly  five  hundred  and  fifty  miles  —  commonly 
went  in  summer  by  way  of  Nuremberg  and  Ratisbon,  and 
if  they  chose  they  could  go  by  public  conveyance.  The 
conveyance  was  typical  for  the  whole  of  Germany.  "There 
is  a  stage-coach,  which  sets  out  from  Hamburg  to  Nuren- 
berg  on  Saturday  evening,  at  the  shutting  of  the  gates;  it 
goes  through  Brunswic,  Wolfembuttel,  Erfurt,  Bamberg, 
&c.,  and  comes  back  to  Hamburg  on  Tuesday  morning. 
This  coach  sets  up  at  Hamburg  at  the  Swan  by  the  change. 
'Tis  common  for  travellers  to  agree  with  the  coachman  for 
their  provisions  as  well  as  for  their  passage.  The  fare  is 
settled  thus:  From  Hamburg  to  Nurenberg  for  passage 
and  pro\'isions  twenty  dollars,"  etc.^  But  we  need  hardly 
follow  the  tedious  detail  to  the  end. 


The  Low  Countries 

One  could  not  go  far  in  the  diminutive  Low  Countries 
without  getting  over  the  frontier,  but  within  the  narrow 
limits  one  could  travel  a  great  deal  and  with  great  con- 
venience.   Much  of  the  travel  was  by  water,  but  there  was 



also  considerable  use  of  wheeled  carriages.  In  Flanders, 
as  in  Holland,  canals  were  frequent;  and  "most  of  the 
large  towns"  had  "stage  coaches,  called  diligences  from 
their  expedition."  ^  A  tourist  in  1773  indicated  how  keen 
was  the  competition  for  passengers,  and  how  impartial  was 
the  award  of  the  prize.  "We  left  Helvoet  on  Monday 
morning  in  a  stage  waggon.  All  the  waggoners  in  town  were 
summoned  by  a  bell,  then  dice  shaken  to  see  who  should 
get  the  fare.  The  price  is  fixed,  therefore  imposition  is 
impossible."  ^ 

Post-wagons  drawn  by  three  horses  went  from  most  of 
the  principal  towns  and  communicated  with  all  parts  of 
Europe.  The  carriages  were  not  unduly  heavy  and,  says 
Nugent,  were  "as  expeditious  as  our  stage-coaches."' 
In  going  from  Rotterdam  to  Antwerp  one  started  at  five 
in  the  morning;  the  price  for  one's  seat  was  nine  guilders, 
nine  stivers,  with  fifteen  pounds  of  baggage  free.  Every- 
thing above  that  weight  was  charged  one  stiver  a  pound.* 

There  were  regular  days  for  the  arrival  and  departure  of 
the  post  at  and  from  Amsterdam,  Brussels,  The  Hague, 
Rotterdam,  and  various  other  points  in  Europe.^  Thus 
the  post  arrived  at  Amsterdam  on  Sunday  "from  Germany, 
Cologne,  Cleves,  Munster,  Liege,  Gelderland,  etc."  On 
Tuesdays  it  came  "towards  noon"  from  Spain,  Portugal, 
France,  Brabant,  and  Flanders.  With  Nugent's  "Grand 
Tour"  in  hand,  the  guide-book  that  chiefly  supplanted 
Misson's,  the  tourist  could  easily  mark  out  his  route  and 
select  the  proper  conveyance.  If  he  were  at  Arnheim,  he 
would  find  that  there  starts  for  "Cologne  in  Germany, 
every  Thursday  morning  a  post-waggon  from  the  Golden 
Swan  with  goods  and  passengers  to  Emmerick,  Wesel, 
Dusseldorp,  Solingen,  Elberfelt,  and  reaches  Cologne  by 
Saturday.  On  Saturday  the  post-waggon  sets  out  from 
Cologne  for  Arnheim  from  the  Red  Goose  in  the  Egel- 
stein,  and  passing  through  the  above-mentioned  places 
arrives  at  Arnheim  by  Tuesday. ' '  ^  Likewise  from  Arnheim, 
we  are  informed,  there  sets  out  for  "Frankfort  on  the  Mayn, 
from  the  third  of  March  till  winter  every  Sunday  morning  a 



post-waggon  at  seven  o'clock,  which  reaches  Frankfort  the 
next  Friday."  ' 

Those  who  preferred  a  private  conveyance  to  these 
democratic  vehicles,  could  hire  carriages  gorgeous  with 
red  velvet  and  drawn  by  horses  making  a  fine  appearance.^ 

When  one  hired  a  post-chaise  for  one's  own  use  three 
horses  at  least  were  required  by  law.  But  if  more  than 
three  had  been  taken  for  the  first  stretch,  the  extra  number 
must  be  paid  for  until  the  entire  journey  was  at  an*end. 
"Our  vanity,"  says  Cogan,  who  was  going  from  Utrecht  to 
Mainz,  "induced  us  to  take  four  horses  "  as  far  as  Nimeguen. 
When  they  arrived  at  Nimeguen,  says  he,  they  "were 
obliged  to  continue,  or  at  least  to  pay,  for  the  same  number; 
nor  could  we  get  ourselves  purged  of  this  superfluous  horse 
until  we  arrived  at  Mentz.  .  .  .  We  were  first  obliged  to 
take  four  horses;  and  secondly  obliged  to  pay  twelve  guil- 
ders for  them;  which  together  with  the  personal  tax  called 
passagie  gelt  amounts  to  about  twenty  pence  per  mile  for 
horses  alone." ' 

In  most  cities  of  the  Low  Countries  a  carriage  of  some 
sort  was  easily  obtainable.  But  at  Amsterdam  the  tourist 
could  not  ride  in  a  coach  "for  fear  of  shaking  the  houses"  * 
—  luiless  he  were  a  privileged  person.  At  The  Hague  "very 
handsome  hackney-coaches"  were  to  be  had  for  a  shilling  a 
drive,  but  chairs  were  lacking.^ 




Once  fairly  started  on  his  journey  from  city  to  city,  the 
tourist's  next  most  important  interest,  so  far  as  material 
comfort  went,  was  his  food  and  lodging.  Upon  the 
eighteenth-century  inns  travelers  have  much  to  remark. 
Indeed,  many  of  the  older  books  of  travel  devote  an  inor- 
dinate amount  of  space  to  the  various  houses  of  entertain- 
ment —  not  in  bestowing  words  of  praise,  but  in  enumer- 
ating the  shortcomings  of  the  table  or  the  furnishings. 
When  compared  with  the  palaces  now  at  the  service  of 
travelers  in  every  part  of  the  world,  few  of  the  inns  of 
that  day  can  be  seriously  considered  as  rivals:  measured 
by  eighteenth-century  standards,  some  were  palatial  in 
their  accommodations  and  quite  good  enough  for  guests  of 
any  rank.  But  on  the  road  between  towns  travelers  put  up 
with  such  accommodations  as  they  could  get,  and  those 
were  often  miserably  inadequate.  Matters  generally  im- 
proved somewhat  in  the  course  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
but  the  remarks  of  Eustace  hold  true  for  the  entire  period 
we  are  considering:  "An  English  traveller  must,  the  very 
instant  he  embarks  for  the  Continent,  resign  many  of  the 
comforts  and  conveniencies  which  he  enjoys  at  home.  .  .  . 
Great  will  be  his  disappointment  if,  on  his  arrival,  he 
expects  a  warm  room,  a  newspaper,  and  a  well-stored 
larder.  These  advantages  are  common  enough  at  home, 
but  they  are  not  to  be  found  in  any  inn  on  the  Continent, 
not  even  Dessenes  ^  at  Calais  or  the  Maison  Rouge  at 
Frankfort.  But  the  principal  and  most  offensive  defect 
abroad  is  the  want  of  cleanliness,  a  defect  in  a  greater  or 
less  degree  common  to  all  parts  of  the  Continent."  ^ 



Other  tourists  toll  the  same  story:  " Aocommodations 
all  over  the  Coutinont"  arc  "vory  itulitToront ;  ...  it  is 
scarcely  possible  for  an  invalid  to  sleep  at  au\'  int\  out  of  a 
>;Teat  town  \Nntho\it  sxitTerii^i::."  '  Wl\ore  the  i^eneral  level 
was  so  low  no  forethoui^ht  could  citable  a  traveler  to  tnake 
sure  of  a  satisfactory  lods^Sni:.'  though  he  nu^^ht  seiul  a 
servant  ahead  to  en^^ai^e  the  best  that  was  to  be  had.  As 
nnght  be  expected,  theiv  was  great  variety  in  the  character 
of  the  accommodations  to  be  found  in  ditlerent  parts trf  the 
Continent,  and  an  accurate  general  characterization  is 
thert^fore  ahnost  impossible.  Holland,  with  its  det\se  pop- 
ulation, its  standards  of  neatness,  and  its  ditYused  wealth, 
is  at  one  e\tn.Mne.  and  Italy,  ^^'ith  its  medieval  hill  townis 
allording  tilthy  Uxls  and  ui\eatable  food,  is  at  the  other. 

The  information  supplied  to  travelers  in  eighteenth- 
century  g-uide-Kx^ks  is  often  very  suggestive,  and  nowhere 
n\oa"  so  than  in  the  passages  relating  to  inns.  We  read:  — 
*'Tra\-ellers  who  go  post  should  never  permit  the  postillion 
to  drive  them  to  such  houses  as  he  pleases;  ahnost  all  of 
them  have  secret  motives  to  prefer  some  to  others;  there- 
fore it  would  Ix"  pnident  to  inquire  of  the  post-masters,  or 
inn-keopers  of  the  first  reputation,  for  a  list  of  the  best 
houses  of  accommodation."'  "A  traveller  should  always 
lodge  in  the  best  imi.  because,  upon  the  whole,  a  good 
lodging  will  not  cost  him  much  more,  than  if  he  had  chosen 
an  indiiYerent  one.  and  he  will  at  least  be  better  served,  ^^^th 
an  additional  security  to  his  property,  which  is  not  always 
the  case  in  inferior  inns."*  "As  soon  as  travellers  enter 
into  an  inn.  they  should  immediately  agree  for  the  price  of 
the  rvx>m.  dinner,  supper,  firing,  etc.,  and  never  neglect 
this  usefxil  precaution;  otherwise  they  will  often  be  obliged 
to  pay  for  their  negligence  in  that  n?spect  an  extravagant 
price,  especially  in  Holland  and  Italy."* 

Beds  were  of  varied  character  in  the  countries  usually 
\'isited;  so  \*aried.  indeed,  that  travelers,  up  to  the  end  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  especially  in  Gennany  and  Italy, 
were  accustomed  to  c;vrry  their  owni  bedding.*  And  even 
where   this  might  not   be  required,   certain  precautions 



were  not  to  be  neglected.    Berchtold  is  very  specific  in  his 
warnings :  — 

"Travellers  being  never  sure  whether  the  lodgers,  who 
slept  in  the  beds  before  them,  were  not  affected  with  the 
itch,  venereal  or  other  disease,  they  should  make  use  of  a 
preventive  of  infection:   a  light  coverlet  of  silk,  two  pairs 
of  sheets,  and  two  dressed  hart's  skins  put  together,  six 
feet  six  inches  in  length,  three  feet  six  inches  in  breadth, 
should  be  always  carried  along  with  them  in  the  box.    The 
hart's  skin,  which  is  put  upon  the  mattresses,  will  hinder  the 
disagreeable  contact,  and  prevent  the  noxious  exhalations. "» 
The  ordinary  sheets  were  laid  upon  the  hart's  skin.    "  Damp 
beds  are  very  often  found  in  inns  little  visited,  and  in  the 
inns  where  fire  is  seldom  made:  they  ought  to  be  carefully 
avoided.  .  .  .  Those  who  travel  should  examine  the  beds 
to  see  whether  they  are  quite  dry,  and  have  the  bed-clothes 
in  their  presence  put  before  the  fire.    If  the  mattresses  are 
suspected,  it  will  be  preferable  to  lie  down  on  dry  and 
clean  straw."  «    "Feather  beds  and  counterpanes  of  cotton 
are  very  liable  to  collect  noxious  exhalations;   for  this  rea- 
son those  who  travel  ought  to  make  use  of  the  hart  skins, 
described  under  the  remarks  on  Inns."  ^ 

To  avoid  other  risks,  "  It  is  of  the  greatest  importance  to 
travellers  always  to  have  a  room  to  be  in  alone,  and  never 
allow  any  person  (well-known  people  excepted)  to  sleep  in 
the  same  apartment,  unless  absolute  necessity  compels 
them."  '*  All  readers  of  the  concluding  chapter  of  Sterne's 
"Sentimental  Journey"  will  recall  the  embarrassing  episode 
growing  out  of  the  necessity  of  assigning  the  same  sleeping- 
apartment  to  tourists  of  opposite  sex. 

The  perils  of  travel  are  considered  in  a  subsequent  chap- 
ter, but  we  here  note:  "In  lonesome  country  inns,  where 
safety  ought  always  to  be  suspected,  it  will  be  better  to  per- 
mit the  servant  to  sleep  in  the  same  room,  and  to  have  a 
wax  candle  burning  the  whole  night.  .  .  .  Pocket  door- 
bolts  in  the  form  of  a  cross  are  applicable  to  almost  all 
sorts  of  doors,  and  may  on  many  occasions  save  the  life  of 
the  traveller,  where  desperate  attempts  may  be  made  by 



needy  assassins.  ..."  Nervous  travelers,  we  learn,  may 
put  the  table  w4th  chairs  on  it  against  the  door  if  bolts  are 
lacking.  "Such  precautions,  are,  however,  less  necessary  in 
England,  but  on  the  Continent  they  are  much  more  so." 

"It  \^^ll  not  be  amiss  in  such  lonesome  places,  where 
accidents  may  oblige  a  traveller  to  remain  the  whole  night, 
to  show  his  fire-arms  to  the  landlord  in  a  familiar  discourse, 
Vknthout  acquainting  him  of  his  well-grounded  suspicion  of 
insecurity;  and  to  tell  him,  with  a  courageous  lool*,  that 
you  are  not  afraid  of  a  far  superior  number  of  enemies."  ' 

In  view  of  the  foregoing  warnings  we  see  that  not  all 
inns  were  models  of  comfort  and  that  they  forced  travelers 
to  pro\'ide  somewhat  minutely  for  personal  needs.  There 
is,  in  fact,  no  more  strilcing  conmientary  on  the  general  lack 
on  the  Continent  of  ordinary  articles  of  comfort,  not  to  say 
luxury,  than  the  list  of  necessaries  suggested  for  the  use  of 
travelers.  As  late  as  1798  Mariana  Starke  recommends  all 
sorts  of  things  for  every  family  to  be  pro\dded  with  on 
leaving  England;  among  them  sheets,  pillows,  blankets, 
towels,  pistols,  a  pocket-knife  to  eat  v\4th,  soup,  tea,  salt, 
spoons,  a  tea-and-sugar  chest,  loaf-sugar,  mustard,  Cay- 
enne-pepper, ginger,  nutmegs,  oatmeal,  sago,  plenty  of 
medicines,  etc.,  etc.* 


French  Inns 

In  cleanliness^  and  comfort  English  inns  were  on  the 
whole  regarded  as  superior  to  the  French,  though  the 
latter  were  commonly  praised  by  travelers.*  Comfort,  as 
elsewhere  pointed  out,  was  far  less  generally  dillused 
throughout  Europe  in  the  eighteenth  century  than  now, 
abounding  greatly  in  one  district  while  strangely  lacking 
in  another.  But  the  English  were  the  wealthiest  people  in 
Europe,  except  perhaps  the  Dutch,  and  everyw^here  insisted 
upon  the  best  that  was  to  be  had.  No  mere  chance  was  it, 
therefore,  that  Dcssein's  Inn  at  Calais,  where  swanns  of 
English  tourists  landed,  was  one  of  the  most  extensive  in 



Europe,  wilh  ":;fiuarcs,  ^^'^^(]cnH,  shopf^  of  all  kinf]:^,  work- 
shops, and  a  handsome  theatre."  '  Entertainment  of  tour- 
ists was,  indeed,  on  a  large  scale  at  Calais,  though  the  town 
was  small.  Essex  counted  the  II/;tel  d'Angletcrre  one  of 
the  best  in  France.  From  forty  to  fifty  carriages  were 
always  ready  for  guests.' 

In  Inrgf;  towns  good  accommodations  were  usually  to  he 
found,  and  if  it  were  our  business  to  make  lists  ^  we  might 
enumerate  scores  of  inns  that  provided  everything  one 
could  reasonably''  Some  were  almost  unreasonably 
good.  Such  was  the  inn  at  Chalons,  with  nx^ms  "furnished 
throughout  with  silk  and  damask,  the  very  linings  of  the 
rooms  and  bed  covers  nr^t  excepted."  ''  Still  better  was  the 
Hotel  de  Henri  IV,  at  Nantes,  over  which  even  the  h/jber 
Young  waxes  enthusiastic  and  inclines  to  think  "the 
finest  inn  in  Europe."  "It  cost,"  says  he,  "400,000  liv. 
(17,500/.;  furnished,  and  is  let  at  14,000  liv.  per  ann.  (612/. 
lo.s.),  with  no  rent  for  the  first  year.  It  contains  60  beds 
for  masters,  and  25  stalls  for  horses.  Some  of  the  apart- 
ments of  two  rooms,  very  neat,  are  6  liv.  a  day;  one  good 
3  liv.,  but  for  merchants  5  liv.  per  diem  for  dinner,  supper, 
wine,  and  chamber,  and  35/.  for  his  horse.  It  is  without 
comparison,  the  first  inn  I  have  seen  in  France,  and  very 
cheap."  " 

Not  merely  were  palatial  establishments  of  this  sort,  to 
be  founrl  here  and  there,  but  many  neat  and  comfortable 
little  hostelries,  of  small  pretensions  and  "of  the  second 
rank  in  appearance,"  that  were  nevertheless  "much  the 
most  comfortable  for  travellers  of  the  sober  sort."  ' 

But  it  would  be  a  serious  error  to  suppose  that  every  inn 
in  France  was  a  model.  We  not  forget  that  France 
before  the  Revolution  suffered  much  actual  misery,  par- 
ticularly in  the  provinces.  No  traveler  could  fail  trj  see 
some  trace  of  it,  and  he  was  fortunate  if  he  had  nothing  to 
sufTcr  himself.  Many  provincial  inns  simply  continued 
throughout  the  eighteenth  century  the  state  of  things  exist- 
ing in  the  seventeenth  century,  when  travel  was  difficult  and 
inns  were  ill-kept  because  little  patronized.    Babeau  cites 



Abraham  Goelnitz,  who  in  1631  went  through  France  on 
foot  and  on  horseback,  often  going  out  of  the  beaten  track. 
He  notes :  "In  certain  villages,  in  certain  towns  even  in  the 
center  of  France,  the  inns  lack  everything.  One  can  hardly 
find  bread  and  a  fire.    Beds  are  wanting."  ' 

Particularly  defective  were  "the  post-houses,"  which, 
as  one  traveler  in  1776  remarks,  "are  not  always  places  of 
reception  as  with  us:  many  of  them  are  ordinary  farm- 
houses ;  and  when  they  are  inns,  they  are  f requentljv  very 
indifferent."  ^  In  this  matter,  as  in  others.  Young  may 
be  trusted  to  tell  the  truth  as  it  was.  At  Moulins,  in  the 
Loire  region,  "I  went,"  says  he,  "to  the  Belle  Image,  but 
found  it  so  bad  that  I  left  it  and  went  to  the  Lyon  d'Or, 
which  is  worse.  This  capital  of  the  Bourbonnois,  and  on  the 
great  post  road  to  Italy,  has  not  an  inn  equal  to  the  little 
village  of  Chavanne."  ^  What  one  might  encounter  ofi  the 
main  routes  may  be  judged  from  Young's  experience  at 
Saint-Girons  *  in  the  Basses  Pyrenees,  a  town  of  four  or 
five  thousand  inhabitants,  where  he  was  forced  to  put  up 
at  a  public  house  undeserving  the  name  of  inn.  "A 
wretched  hag,  the  demon  of  beastliness,  presides  there.  I 
laid  [!]  not  rested,  in  a  chamber  over  a  stable,  whose  efiSu- 
viae  [!]  through  the  broken  floor  were  the  least  offensive  of 
the  perfumes  afforded  by  this  hideous  place.  It  could  give 
me  but  two  stale  eggs,  for  which  I  paid  exclusive  of  all 
other  charges,  20/.  .  .  .  But  the  inns  all  the  way  from 
Nismes  are  wretched,  except  at  Lodeve,  Gange,  Carcasonne, 
and  Mirepoix."  ^ 

Of  the  road  near  Mayres  in  Ard^che  he  says:  "It  con- 
ducts, according  to  custom,  to  a  miserable  inn,  but  with  a 
large  stable."  *  After  dining  one  day  at  Viviers  and  passing 
the  Rhone,  he  remarks:  "After  the  wretched  inns  of  the 
Vivarais,  dirt,  filth,  bugs,  and  starving,  to  arrive  at  the 
Hotel  de  Monsieur,  at  Montilimart,  a  great  and  excellent 
inn,  was  something  like  the  arrival  in  France  from  Spain."  ' 

With  Young's  comments  before  us  we  may  be  the  more 
inclined  to  give  credence  to  the  peppery  Smollett,  whose 
journey  antedates  Young 's  by  about  a  quarter  of  a  century, 



and  who  declares  that  "Through  the  whole  south  of 
France,  except  in  large  cities,  the  inns  are  cold,  damp, 
dark,  dismal,  and  dirty;  the  landlords  equally  disobliging 
and  rapacious;  the  servants  aukward,  sluttish  and  sloth- 
ful." ' 

Particularly  shocking  to  travelers  of  our  day  would  ap- 
pear the  entire  lack  of  sanitary  conveniences.  In  fact, 
until  very  recently  Gallic  ideals  in  matters  of  personal 
cleanliness  and  sanitation  have  called  forth  unfavorable 
comment  from  English  tourists,  but  the  state  of  things 
in  the  eighteenth  century  one  can  hardly  venture  to  de- 
scribe.^  Smollett  has  a  fragrant  passage  on  the  "temple 
of  Cloacina"  connected  with  the  inn  at  Nimes  which 
cannot  be  quoted,  but  which  is  worthy  the  attention  of 
the  inquiring  reader.^ 

Englishmen  were  inclined  also  to  be  critical  about  French  / 

beds.  Nugent  warns  the  traveler :  "  After  you  have  passed 
Boulogne,  you  will  not  find  the  beds  like  ours  in  England; 
for  they  raise  them  very  high  with  several  thick  mattresses : 
their  linen  is  ill-washed  and  worse  dried,  so  that  you  must 
take  particular  care  to  see  the  sheets  aired."  ^ 

With  more  particularity  another  Englishman  comments 
on  the  beds  in  inns:  "Two  of  them  are  always  placed  in 
the  same  room:  they  consist  of  a  bed  of  straw  at  the  bot- 
tom, then  a  large  mattrass,  then  a  feather-bed,  then  an- 
other large  mattrass,  upon  which  are  the  blankets,  etc., 
with  all  which,  the  bed  is  so  high,  that  a  man  with  great 
difficulty  climbs  into  it;  and,  if  he  were  to  tumble  out  of 
it  by  mischance,  he  would  be  in  danger  of  breaking  his 
bones  upon  a  brick  floor."  ^ 

But  every  traveler  was  tempted  to  magnify  his  experi- 
ence and  to  regard  it  as  typical.  If  he  found  in  one  city 
that  the  "beds  seemed  stuffed  with  potatoes  rather  than 
feathers,"  ^  he  easily  assumed  that  French  beds  were  usu- 
ally of  the  same  sort.  It  is  well  to  remember  that  Arthur 
Young  distinctly  says:  "Beds  are  better  in  France;  in 
England  they  are  good  only  at  good  inns ;  and  we  have  none 
of  that  torment,  which  is  so  perplexing  in  England,  to  have 



the  shoots  airod."  '  Boyoiui  qviostioti,  howevor.  ii\  Fronoh 
beds  the  hirkins;  dovouror  was  only  too  common,  and  made 
the  unseasoned  traveler  w-rithe.  Stenie  went  i'rotn  Paris 
to  Nimos  in  i;oj  at\d  sutTered  the  usual  experietuvs  of  the 
strani^er.  "Good  God!  we  were  toasted,  roasted.  j;riird, 
stow'd.  and  carbonaded  on  one  side  or  other  all  the  way  — 
aiid  boiuL;  all  done  enough  (ikwws:  cta'ts)  in  the  day,  wo  were 
ate  up  at  nij;ht  by  bugs,  and  other  unswept  out  vennin, 
the  legal  inhabitants  (if  length  of  possession  gives  right) 
of  every  iim  we  lay  at."  ' 

But  if  French  beds  evoked  occasional  criticism,  not  nuich 
was  to  be  urged  against  the  Frencli  table  —  at  its  best. 
Then  as  now  French  cookery  was  famous  and  to  most  Eng- 
lish tourists  it  came  as  a  revelation.  "The  common  cook- 
ery of  the  French."  says  Young,  "gives  great  advantage. 
It  is  tnie  they  roast  every  thing  to  a  chip,  if  they  are  not 
cautioned,  but  they  give  such  a  number  and  variety  of 
dislics,  that  if  you  do  not  like  some  there  are  others  to 
please  your  palate.  The  desert  at  a  Fretich  inn  has  no 
rival  at  an  English  one."  ' 

Yet  at  the  wayside  inn  h\  France  the  tourist  not  infre- 
quently encountered  gastronomic  horrors,  or  what  were 
such  to  him;  and  even  at  well-kept  houses  more  than  one 
English  tourist  longed  for  the  fleshpots  of  his  island  home  — 
the  plain  boiled  greens,  the  plain  boiled  mutton,  and  the 
unadorned  roasts  of  his  native  land,  guiltless  of  sauces  and 
naked  in  their  simplicity,  in  preference  to  the  most  ambi- 
tious productions  of  the  French  chef.  ■•  Of  such  was  Smollett, 
who.  when  complaints  were  to  be  made,  rarely  failed.  "I 
and  my  family  could  not  well  dispense  with  our  toast  in 
the  morning,  and  had  no  stomach  to  cat  at  noon.  For  my 
owni  part.  I  hate  the  French  cookery,  and  abominate  gar- 
lick.  \\'ith  which  all  their  ragouts  in  this  part  of  the  country 
are  highly  seasoned."  '  But  Smollett  stood  by  no  means 
alone.  Horace  Walpole  writes  to  West  from  Paris  in  1739: 
"At  dinner  they  give  you  three  courses;  but  a  third  of  the 
dishes  is  patched  up  with  sallads,  butter,  puff-paste,  or  some 
such  miscarriage  of  a  dish."  ^ 



In  these  messes  there  was  a  ^reat  show  of  viands,  but  on 
the  tables  of  too  many  inns  there  was  no  superabundance 
of  real  food,  and  there  was  no  shadow  of  doubt  as  to  when 
the  meal  had  come  to  a  conclusion.  An  Englishman  who 
had  lived  lon^^  abroad  comments  sharply  in  "A  Description 
of  Holland"  '  upon  the  ni^^^^ardly  supply  of  eatables  af- 
forded by  many  French  innkeepers :  "They  have  not  heart 
to  provide  hands^-jmly  for  their  j^uests,  and  are  so  saving 
and  penurious,  the  foible  and  habit  of  their  nation,  that 
they  count  every  bit  one  puts  into  one's  mouth.  They  are 
as  well  pleased  to  see  their  dishes  not  touched,  as  a  hearty 
English  landlord  is  displeased,  when  he  thinks  his  guest 
does  not  like  his  victuals."  Another  earlier  fault-finder 
observes:  *"Tis  a  great  inconvenience  to  travel  in  France 
upon  a  fish-day;  for  'tis  a  hard  matter  to  get  anything  to 
eat  but  stinking  fish  or  rotten  eggs."  ^ 

A  common  and  well-grounded  complaint  was  that  the 
drinking-water  was  often  unfit  for  use,  particularly  at 
Paris,  where  the  supply  was  drawn  from  the  narrow  and 
dirty  Seine,'  and  had  to  be  filtered.  Those  who  could 
afford  it  drank  Eau  de  Roy  from  Ville  d'Avray.* 

English  tourists  were  cautioned  also  not  to  go  to  France 
without  a  knife  and  fork,  for,  says  "The  Gentleman's 
Guide,"  ^  "if  you  neglect  taking  [them]  with  you,  you'll 
often  run  the  risk  of  losing  your  dinner." 

Still  another  opportunity  for  criticism  was  afforded  by 
the  usual  hour  for  dinner.  To  gentlemen  who  felt  bound 
to  conform  to  French  conventions  in  order  to  be  admitted 
to  society,  the  noon  dinner,  "customary  all  over  France, 
except  by  persons  of  considerable  fashion  at  Paris,"  ap- 
peared a  serious  waste  of  time."  "We  dress  for  dinner  in 
England  with  propriety,"  says  Young,  "as  the  rest  of  the 
day  is  dedicated  to  ease,  to  converse,  and  relaxation;  but 
by  doing  it  at  noon  too  much  time  is  lost.  What  is  a  man 
good  for  after  his  silk  breeches  and  stockings  are  on,  his 
hat  under  his  arm,  and  his  head  bien  poudreV  And  we 
must  grant  that  Young  is  right. 

This  rapid  glance  at  the  eighteenth-century  French  inn 



is  porha{\s  sutrioiont  to  otmMo  us  to  ronli::o  its  main  foattiros. 
But  wo  must  ixMuombor  that  as  a  usual  thiui:  the  inn  was 
for  the  accommodation  of  the  transient  v::iiest.  Strangers 
tnakiTii:  a  oonsidorablo  stay  abroad  commonly  found  quar- 
ters in  a  private  house.  As  we  shall  see  later,  Rheims, 
Tours.  Montpellier,  Toulouse,  Dijon,  and  other  proxnncial 
cities  attracted  many  Kti^lish  tourists  for  weeks  and  even 
months  at  a  time  and  atYorded  comfortable  li\-ini:  at  prices 
that  Enj^lishmen  could  hardly  imagine  possible.  Most 
English  tourists  six^nt  as  much  time  as  they  could  afford 
in  Paris,  and  if  they  had  an  eye  to  economy  they  set  up  a 
modest  establishment  of  their  own  in  hitvd  lodgings.  Fron\ 
Nugent 's  handbook  on  the  grand  tour  they  could  leani 
paxnsely  what  they  tnight  expect  and  what  they  would 
have  to  furnish:  "Vou  will  hardly  get  an  apartment  to 
please  you  up  two  pair  of  stairs  for  less  than  15  or  :o  lixTCS 
a  week.  .  .  .  Your  servant,  for  about  t\f teen  shillings.  Eng- 
lish, will  immediately  set  you  up  for  a  housekeeper,  by 
buvii\g  vou  a  tii\  tea-kettle,  some  charcoal,  ai\d  a  dish, 
some  tea-cups,  saucers,  niilk-pot.  a  decanter,  and  about 
half  a  dozen  glasses :  ho  \y\\\  also  buy  you  French  rolls  and 
sugar,  and  good  hyson  tea  for  about  17  li\Tes  a  pound: 
and  so  much  for  breakfast.  With  regard  to  your  dimiers 
and  suppers,  if  you  choose  to  live  in  a  family  way.  you  had 
best  have  them  drest  and  sent  in  by  a  cook,  or  from  a 
tavern  to  your  lodgings,  at  your  owti  hour,  and  he  will 
find  you  linen  and  knives.  For  eight  li\Tcs  a  day,  you  may 
have  for  diiiner  two  good  dishes  and  a  soop,  which  will 
serve  four  in  company,  and  servants."  ^ 


Italian  Inns 

In  the  low  quality  of  the  inns  the  greater  part  of  Italy 
was  a  close  rival  to  the  most  neglected  regions  of  Europe. 
The  comments  in  books  of  travel  on  the  shortcomings  of 
It-alian  inns,  pvarticularly  those  of  countrv  towns,  present 



no  very  invitinj^  picture.  Some  criticism  doubtless  means 
little  more  than  that  the  ways  of  the  inns  were  Italian  rather 
than  lirij'lish.  But  at  best  the  averaj.^e  hostelry  left  much 
U)  be  desired.  Eu.stacc  had  an  extended  experience  through- 
out the  peninsula,  and  he  remarks:  "In  Italy  .  .  .  the  little 
country  inns  are  dirty,  but  the  ^^reater  inns,  particularly 
in  Rome,  Naples,  Florence,  and  Venice,  are  good,  and  in 
general  the  linen  is  clean,  and  the  beds  are  excellent.  As 
for  diet,  in  country  towns,  the  traveller  will  find  plenty  of 
provisions,  though  seldom  prepared  according  to  his  taste."  * 
Even  the  fastidious  De  Brosses  is  moved  to  protest  against 
indiscriminate  condemnation  of  the  accommodations  pro- 
vided for  travelers  in  Italy.  "Everybody  says  that  the 
inns  of  Italy  are  detestable.  That  is  not  true.  One  is  very 
well  entertained  in  the  better  towns.  In  the  villages,  to 
be  sure,  one  is  badly  off;  but  that  is  no  marvel,  it  is  the 
same  in  France."  ' 

But  the  comments  of  Dr.  Moore  probably  express  the 
actual  effect  of  Italian  hotels  upon  the  average,  inexperi- 
enced English  tourist.  "Strangers  .  .  .  whose  senses  are 
far  more  powerful  than  their  fancy,  when  they  arc  so  ill- 
advised  as  to  come  so  far  from  home,  generally  make  this 
journey  in  very  ill  humour,  fretting  at  Italian  Ijcds,  fuming 
against  Italian  cooks,  and  execrating  every  poor  little 
Italian  flea  that  they  meet  with  on  the  road."  "  Dr.  Moore 
possibly  had  in  mind  the  English  tourist  Sharp,  who  cer- 
tainly expresses  no  great  delight  over  his  experiences: 
"We  arrived  at  this  place  [Rome],  after  a  journey  of  seven 
days,  with  accommodations  uncomfortable  enough.  Give 
what  scope  you  please  to  your  fancy,  you  will  never  imagine 
half  the  disagreeableness  that  Italian  beds,  Italian  cooks, 
Italian  post-horses,  Italian  postilions,  and  Italian  nasti- 
ness  offer  to  an  Englishman  in  an  Italian  journey;  much 
more  to  an  English  woman.  At  Turin,  Milan,  Venice, 
Rome,  and,  perhaps,  two  or  three  other  towns,  you  meet 
with  good  accommodation;  but  no  words  can  express  the 
wretchedness  of  the  other  inns.  No  other  bed  but  one  of 
straw,  and  next  to  that  a  dirty  sheet,  sprinkled  with  water, 



and,  consequently,  damp;  for  a  covering  you  have  another 
sheet,  as  coarse  as  the  first,  and  as  coarse  as  one  of  our 
kitchen  jack-towels,  w4th  a  dirty  coverlet.  The  bedsted 
consists  of  four  wooden  forms,  or  benches;  An  English 
Peer  and  Peeress  must  lye  in  this  manner,  unless  they  carry 
an  upholsterer's  shop  with  them,  which  is  very  trouble- 
some. There  are,  by  the  bye,  no  such  things  as  curtains, 
and  hardly,  from  Venice  to  Rome,  that  cleanly  and  most 
useful  invention,  a  privy;  so  that  what  should  be  coll<?cted 
and  buried  in  oblivion,  is  for  ever  under  your  nose  and 
eyes."  * 

Sharp  goes  on  to  damn  the  dirtiness  of  the  pewter  plates 
and  dishes,  as  well  as  the  tablecloths  and  napkins.  The 
food  is  \'ile.  "The  bread  all  the  way  is  exceedingly  bad,  and 
the  butter  so  rancid,  it  cannot  be  touch'd,  or  even  borne 
within  the  reach  of  our  smell."  -  "  But  what  is  a  greater  evil 
to  travelers  than  any  of  the  above  recited,  though  not  pe- 
culiar to  the  Loretto  road,  is  the  infinite  number  of  gnats, 
bugs,  fleas,  and  lice,  which  infest  us  by  night  and  by  day. 
You  mil  grant,  after  this  description  of  the  horrors  of  an 
Italian  journey,  that  one  ought  to  take  no  small  pleasure 
in  treading  on  classic  ground:  yet,  believe  me,  I  have  not 
caricatured;  every  article  of  it  is  literally  true."  ^ 

Sharp  certainly  appears  to  speak  from  a  full  heart,  and 
his  Italian  critic  Baretti  practically  admits  that  the  charges 
are  in  part  true.  But  he  points  out  that  Sharp  went  by  an 
"imfrequent  road  to  Rome,"  and  that  he  might  easily 
have  obtained  from  Italians  of  good  social  position  letters 
of  introduction  to  their  friends  along  the  road  "who  would 
have  occasionally  accommodated  him  better  than  he  was 
at  the  inns,  where  his  Vetturino  thought  proper  to  carry 
him;  to  which  inns  few  Italians  of  any  note  resort."  *  They 
stay,  says  Baretti,  with  their  friends,  or  put  up  at  convents. 

Baretti's  defense  of  his  compatriots,  in  this  as  in  some 
other  cases,  does  not  squarely  meet  the  criticism  of  fair- 
minded  tourists,  who  had  already  anticipated  in  the  sev- 
enteenth century  about  all  that  was  said  against  the  inns 
of  the  eighteenth  century.     "The  inns  are  wretched  and 



ill -furnished,"  says  Burnet,  "both  for  lodging  and  diet; 
this  is  the  plague  of  all  Italy,  when  once  one  hath  pass'd 
the  Appennines;  for  except  in  the  great  towns,  one  really 
suffers  so  much  that  way,  that  the  pleasure  of  travelling 
is  much  abated  by  the  inconveniences  that  one  meets  in 
every  stage  through  which  he  passes."  ' 

Misson's  general  estimate  agrees  with  Burnet's:  "Tis 
by  no  means  convenient  to  travel  in  companies  in  Italy; 
the  inns  are  so  miserable  that  oftentimes  they  can  neither 
accommodate  their  guests  with  meat  nor  beds,  when  they 
are  too  numerous."  ^ 

Nugent  improves  upon  Misson,  whose  phrasing  he  slightly 
varies  but  without  acknowledging  his  source:  "But  'tis 
very  improper  to  travel  in  large  companies  in  Italy,  for 
the  inns  are  generally  so  very  miserable  that  oftentimes 
they  can  find  neither  beds  nor  provisions  when  the  com- 
pany is  too  numerous.  To  prevent  therefore  the  inconven- 
iences of  a  bad  lodging,  those  that  do  not  carry  a  complete 
bed  with  them  ought  at  least  to  make  a  provision  of  a  light 
quilt,  a  pillow,  a  coverlet,  and  two  very  fine  bed-cloths, 
that  they  may  make  but  a  small  bundle."  One  may  travel 
very  easily  with  these  conveniences  rolled  up  in  a  sack, 
lined  with  waxed  cloth,  three  and  a  half  feet  high,  and  less 
than  two  in  diameter,  when  full;  which,  being  light,  is 
easily  carried  with  the  portmanteau  and  is  of  no  charge. 
"However,  if  this  should  appear  troublesome,  'tis  advis- 
able at  least  to  travel  with  sheets,  and  upon  coming  to  an 
indifferent  inn  you  may  call  for  fresh  straw  and  lay  a  clean 
sheet  over  it."  ^ 

On  this  matter  the  English  tourist  Sharp  remarks:  "It 
is  curious  to  observe  how  careless  they  are  of  damp  sheets 
all  through  Italy,  and  the  people  at  inns  are  so  little  ap- 
prised of  an  objection  to  damp  sheets  that  when  you  begin 
to  beg  they  would  hang  them  before  the  fire,  they  desire 
you  will  feel  how  wet  they  are,  being  prepossessed  that 
you  mean  they  have  not  been  washed."  ^  Sharp  was  an 
inveterate  faiilt-finder,  whom  Baretti  rightly  took  to  task 
for  misrepresentation,   but  even  Baretti  admits:     "The 



beds  indeed  you  mil  find  bad  enough  in  many  places;  and 
you  must  have  a  care  never  to  sleep  but  in  your  own  sheets, 
because  the  inn-keepers,  when  they  are  poor,  are  generally 
ill-provided,  and  are  even  rogues  into  the  bargain,  that  will 
swear  no  body  has  slept  in  the  sheets  they  offer,  though 
the  contrary  is  very  apparent;  nor  will  it  be  amiss  to  have 
a  thin  mattress  of  your  own,  stuffed  with  feathers  or  Span- 
ish wool,  to  throw  over  the  mattresses  of  the  inn."  ^ 

Of  Italian  beds  the  English  tourist  James  Edward 
Smith  is  one  of  the  few  defenders:  "In  justice  to  the  poor 
traduced  inns  of  Italy,  I  think  it  right  to  mention  here 
that  for  the  first  time,"  in  a  Httlc  village  twenty-two  miles 
from  Viterbo,  "we  r:ci  with  damp  sheets,  and  were  obliged 
to  have  them  dried.  I  do  not  think  I  ever  discovered  dirty 
sheets  in  Italy,  though  always  very  scrupulous  in  my  ex- 
aminations on  that  head.  England  is  certainly  the  most 
indelicate  of  all  civilized  nations  with  respect  to  bed  and 
table  linen.  Our  great  inns  are  less  to  be  trusted  about 
sheets  than  any  abroad."  ^ 

In  many  other  ways  the  inns  were  sadly  lacking  in  the 
most  elementary  comfort.  Smollett  and  his  party  went  to 
the  inn  at  San  Remo,  said  to  be  the  best  in  the  place:  "We 
ascended  by  a  dark,  narrow,  steep  stair,  into  a  kind  of 
public  room,  with  a  long  table  and  benches,  so  dirty  and 
miserable  that  it  would  disgrace  the  worst  hedge  ale-house 
in  England.  Not  a  soul  appeared  to  receive  us.  This  is  a 
ceremony  one  must  not  expect  to  meet  with  in  France,  far 
less  in  Italy."  At  last  they  got  some  poor  rooms,  very 
badly  furnished,  and  bad  food.  He  adds:  "You  must  not 
expect  cleanliness  or  conveniency  of  any  land  in  this  coun- 
try. For  this  accommodation  I  payed  as  much  as  if  I 
had  been  elegantly  entertained  in  the  best  auberge  of 
France  or  Italy."  ^ 

The  food  was  commonly  of  wretched  quality,  except  in 
the  large  towns,  and  one  was  advised  to  pick  up  food  for 
luncheons  on  the  way.*  Even  the  large  cities  could  not 
unifonnly  be  depended  upon  to  make  the  passing  tourist 
comfortable.     Genoa  was  styled  "the  superb,"  but  "the 



inns  of  Genoa,"  we  are  told,  "afford  but  indifferent  accom- 
modations. The  wine  is  not  very  excellent,  though  they 
have  it  in  sealed  bottles  from  the  vaults  of  the  republic."* 

The  main  roads  to  Rome  were  more  traveled  than,  per- 
haps, any  others  in  Italy,  but  we  have  numberless  com- 
plaints that  the  inns  were  abominable.  Travelers  going 
on  the  main  road  to  Rome  from  Siena  had  at  least  to  halt 
at  Acquapendcntc.  Here,  says  one  tourist:  "We  were  told 
that  the  man  who  kept  the  hostry  where  we  inn'd  was  the 
most  wealthy  person  in  the  place.  He  had  only  two  or  three 
ragged  servants,  and  waited  at  table  himself."  ^  All  the 
way,  in  fact,  "from  Sienna  to  Aquapendente,"  says  Keysler, 
"...  the  post-houses  stand  single,  and  afford  but  very 
indifferent  entertainment."  ^ 

Even  worse,  if  possible,  was  the  condition  of  affairs  on 
the  central  route  from  Rome  to  Florence  through  Terni 
and  Perugia.  As  we  might  expect,  that  chronic  grumbler 
Smollett  on  this  route  quite  outdoes  himself  in  describing 
some  of  his  places  of  entertainment:  "Great  part  of  this 
way  lies  over  steep  mountains,  or  along  the  side  of  preci- 
pices, which  render  travelling  in  a  carriage  exceeding  tedi- 
ous, dreadful,  and  dangerous;  and  as  for  the  public  houses, 
they  are  in  all  respects  the  most  execrable  that  ever  I 
entered.  I  will  venture  to  say  that  a  common  prisoner  in 
the  Marshalsea  or  King's-Bench  is  more  cleanly  and  com- 
modiously  lodged  than  we  were  in  many  places  on  this  road. 
The  houses  are  abominably  nasty,  and  generally  destitute 
of  provision;  when  eatables  were  found  we  were  almost 
poisoned  by  their  cookery:  their  beds  were  without  cur- 
tains or  bedstead,  and  their  windows  without  glass;  and 
for  this  sort  of  entertainment  we  payed  as  much  as  if  we 
had  been  genteelly  lodged  and  sumptuously  treated.  I 
repeat  again;  of  all  the  people  I  ever  knew,  the  Italians 
are  the  most  villainously  rapacious."  * 

In  going  from  Perugia  to  Florence,  over  the  mountains, 
he  put  up  at  "a  small  village,  the  name  of  which,"  he  says, 
"I  do  not  remember.  The  house  was  dismal  and  dirty 
beyond  all  description;  the  bed-cloaths  filthy  enough  to 



turn  the  stomach  of  a  muloteor;  and  the  \nctuals  cooked 
in  such  a  manner  that  ovoti  a  Hottentot  could  not  have 
beheld  them  without  loathing."  • 

All  this  is  movinj:  enoui^h.  Rut  to  some  extent  the  ex- 
perience of  the  traveler  was  shaped  b}*  chance.  Unfamiliar 
with  the  country  or  the  language  he  was  often  as  likely  to 
get  the  worst  accommodations  as  the  best.  The  irascible 
Sharp  was  as  ready  to  complain  as  Smollett,  but  even 
Sharp,  on  roiurning  from  Rome  to  Florence,  finds  endufable 
inns  along  the  road.  He  \\Tites  from  Florence.  "We  ar- 
rived here  last  night,  after  a  journey  of  four  days  from 
Rome,  and  found  much  more  agreeable  accommodations 
than  we  experienced  cither  on  the  road  to  Rome  from 
Venice,  or  to  Naples  from  Rome;  indeed,  to  do  justice  to 
the  inns,  we  met  with  so  much  cleanliness,  and  such  good 
beds,  that  we  found  ourselves  most  agreeably  disappointed 
in  these  articles."^  And  again:  "The  country  from  Bo- 
logna to  this  place  [Alexandria]  is  a  delightful,  fertile  plain, 
and  the  accommodations  so  much  better  than  those  we 
meet  \\'ith  on  the  road  to  Rome  by  the  way  of  Loretto, 
that  I  desire  you  will  make  the  distinction  betwixt  my 
journey  thither  and  my  return,  whenever  you  give  a  char- 
acter of  Italy  from  my  letters."  ^ 

Bad  as  were  the  majority  of  the  country  inns  north  of 
Rome,  those  between  Rome  and  Naples  were  worse,  and 
they  called  forth  endless  complaints.*  In  general,  observes 
Gorani,  "the  inns  of  these  Icingdoms"  —  Naples  and 
Sicily  —  "do  not  deserve  to  bear  the  name.  Nothing  is  to 
be  found  there  but  water,  bad  \nne.  and  bread  still  worse."  * 
On  the  road  between  Rome  and  Naples  "they  gave  us  for 
supper."  says  Misson.  "cheese  made  vnth  the  milk  of 
bullies;  and  we  were  forced  to  lie  upon  mattresses,  which, 
I  think,  were  made  with  stones  of  peaches."'  "All  the 
way  to  Naples."  says  the  querulous  Sharp,  "we  never  once 
crept  within  the  sheets,  not  daring  to  encounter  the  vermin 
and  nastiness  of  those  beds."  ^  He  elsewhere  observes: 
"Some  of  the  inns  on  this  road  exceed  in  tilth  and  bad  ac- 
commodations all  that  I  have  ever  written  on  that  subject 



before:  I  do  sincerely  believe,  that  they  no  more  think  of 
wiping  flown  a  cobweb  in  a  bed-chamber,  than  our  farmers 
do  of  sweeping  them  away  in  an  old  bam."  ^  He  speaks 
of  whole  ceilings  covered  with  spiders. 

The  ill-kept  inns  merely  reflected  the  sluttishness  of  the 
inhabitants,  which  must  have  been  notable  to  call  forth  the 
following  outh)urst  from  the  usually  genial  Burnet:  "It 
amazes  a  stranger  to  see  in  their  little  towns  the  whole  men 
of  the  town  walking  in  the  market-places  in  their  torn 
cloaks,  and  doing  nothing.  And  tho'  in  ^:ome  big  towns, 
such  as  Capua,  there  is  but  one  inn,  yet  even  that  is  so 
miserable  that  the  bcjit  room  and  bed  in  it  is  so  bad  that 
our  footmen  in  England  would  make  a  grievous  outcry  if 
they  were  no  better  lodged.  Nor  is  there  any  thing  to  be 
had  in  them;  the  wine  is  intolerable,  the  bread  ill-baked, 
no  victuals,  except  pigeons,  and  the  oil  is  rotten.  In  short, 
except  one  carries  his  whole  provision  from  Rome  or 
Naples,  he  must  resolve  to  endure  a  good  deal  of  misery  in 
the  four  days'  journey  that  is  between  those  two  places."  ' 
What  was  true  of  the  inns  along  the  great  road  between 
Rome  and  Naples  was  tenfold  worse  in  the  extreme  South, 
where  tourists  never  ventured. 

With  these  facts  before  us  we  may  be  led  to  do  injustice 
to  the  inns  in  the  larger  towns  and  cities  where  tourists 
made  their  longer  stay.  There  were  some  well-known 
hotels  at  Venice,  at  Florence,  at  Bologna,^  and  elr^ewhere. 
But  De  Brosses  tells  us  that  at  Rome  the  Aubcrge  du 
Mont  d'Or,  in  the  Piazza  di  Spagna,  was  perhaps  the  only 
good  inn  for  strangers  in  the  city.  He  adds  in  explanation 
that  it  was  not  customary  to  live  at  a  hotel  except  just 
long  enough  to  enable  one  to  find  a  furnished  room  else- 
where.* In  Rome  travelers  generally  lodged  in  or  near  the 
Piazza  di  Spagna,  which  has  to  this  day  remained  a  popular 
quarter  with  foreigners.  Nugent  names  some  of  the  best 
inns  at  Rome.  "But,"  he  adds,  "those  who  intend  to  make 
any  stay  had  better  hire  furnished  apartments,  which  are 
very  reasonable;  for  you  may  be  accommodated  with  a 
palazzo,  as  they  call  it,  or  a  handsome  furnished  house  for 



about  :>ix  j^uiiuws  a  tuotUh."  '  Tho  tourist  who  wout  to 
Naploswas  iutoruM\l  that  "  thoCardiiial's  Hat  aud  thoTtuvo 
Kiii|isfu\^  ivokot\i\l  tho  host  iiuis  iu  Naples,'  at  which  houses 
tho  ICnv^lish  i^outlotuou  ooinnuM\ly  lodi'.o.  Tho  apart mouts 
au^  iuvlitYotvnt.  but  tho  aoov^muodatious  oxtronioly  .;;ooil, 
auvl  tho  i\x^ks  i^otuTalh'  oxoollout.  The  folloNvinj;  aro  sonio 
pivoautiot\s  that  may  bo  ot"  sorviLV  to  travollors.  It  auy 
.v:oi\tlonuin  itUouds  to  inako  a  oot\sidorablo  stay  hot\\  tho 
bost  way  will  bo  to  tako  a  rt\uiy -furnished  lodi^iuv:  nii  or 
near  ;"  "  >>'  Ac  c'.istollo.  fron\  whence  there  is  a  beauti- 
ful pi>  .\  .  [\\c  soa  It  is  a  tine  open  place,  with  several 
i:ood  inns  near  it,  frvnn  whoutv  provisiotis  tnay  bo  had  well 
dn\ssed.  and  sent  hot  at  any  time.  As  to  wine,  then^  are 
mai^y  omiiiont  tnerchants  who  have  noble  eollars.  and  very 
cool,  where  variety  of  wines  may  be  had  o\coodin>;ly  cheap: 
for  tlnvo  shillii\.i;s  at\d  iliriV-pont.v  a  barrel  of  e\eollot\t  wine, 
CvMUainin.^  nine  v^allons.  may  be  boui^ht.  This  him  will  bo 
of  servi(.v  to  those  who  diuse  a  private  apa.rtniet\t  of  their 
own.  rather  than  a  public  inn.  Stran>;ers  should  be  very 
careful  in  their  transactions  with  the  lower  class  <'>f  people, 
who  have  tho  art  of  docciNnuj;  in  a  superlative  doi^ax^. 
lloa^  an^  also  a  par\\4  of  follows  who  speak  a  little  !>rokon 
ICni^lish.  and  will  otYor  their  sorvuvs  as  piidos.  or  n.iK; s. 
but  the  Neapolitans  of  this  class  exceed  their  fraternity 
in  all  other  places  in  knavery."  * 

At  Venicv\  too.  Nui^ent  adN-ises  "those  who  ii\totul  to 
sp^Mui  some  months"  there  "to  hiiv  a  furnished  house. 
Then.^  an^  a.lways  some  apart ti\ents  to  be  let  in  the  Trocura- 
tie.  which  itukwl  is  the  dean^st.  but  at  the  same  titne  tl\e 
finest,  part  of  the  unv.i  "*■  In  general,  he  ivcotnmotuls 
takint:  furnished  aparnueuts  in  "most  other  places." 

As  already  observed,  the  food  to  l->o  obtained  at  wayside 
inns  was.  to  Englisli  travelers,  almost  uneatable.  Generally 
the  kitchen  was  the  least  inviting:  part  of  the  imi  —  dirty, 
ill-kept,  and  ill-supplied.*  Burnet's  remarks^  late  in  the 
sovontciMUh  century,  held  true  in  many  districts  until  the 
end  of  the  eiv;hteonth:  "A  traveller  in  many  places  linds 
almost  nothing,  and  is  so  ill  funiished  that  if  he  docs  not 



buy  provisions  in  the  }^rr;at  towns,  he  will  be  (Ajhy/-/]  to  a 
very  :;f;vf:rc  <hoX,  in  a  ajuntry  that  he  ::hould  tPjink  fiow'f] 
with  milk  and  honey."  ' 

At  all  cvf-.nt;,  touri;:t:;  v/ho  consulted  their  own  comfort 
fJid  not  tru;:t  the  larder  of  the  wayside  inn  or  even  that  of 
the  more  jjretentious  hoi^telry  in  town;;  of  con::iderable  :;ize. 
Mariana  Starke's  party,  when  goinj^  to  J^alcstrina,  to^^k 
provisions  with  them,  thou^^h,  as  she  says,  the  inn  was 
"not  very  bad."  "J'he  inn  at  Frascati  was  "tolerably 
j(oor],"  but  it  was  "advisable  .  .  .  for  travellers  to  carry 
cold  meat  with  them."*  And  this  was  late  in  the  <:\'/ht- 
eenth  century. 

But  in  the  days  of  slow  and  crjstly  transportation,  the 
traveler  who  could  not  carry  a  kitchen  and  a  storehouse; 
with  him  was  usually  compelled  to  accept  the  unmodified 
fare  of  each  district,  and  this  naturally  varied  with  every 
postinj^-station.  In  any  case,  the  wealthy  Eny]i:\hrn:in, 
accustomed  to  a  j^enerous  table  with  abundance  of  meat, 
found  the  usual  Italian  fare  very  meaner,  and  he  was  not 
reconciled  to  the  lack  of  roast  beef  and  mutt/jn  by  the 
abundance  of  salad  and  macaroni.  The  difference  in  l*:^n;,^- 
lish  and  Italian  temperament  and  habits  was  fundamental. 
"Few  Italians,"  says  Baretti,  "can  endure  beef  at  their 
tables.  Many  Enj<lish  ministers  residing  at  our  courts  anrl 
many  Enj^lish  gentlemen  habituated  in  the  country,  find- 
ing the  beef  to  their  taste  in  fx^veral  parts  of  Italy,  have 
kindly  endeavoured  U)  bring  it  into  fashion,  and  would 
persuade  us  to  eat  it  roasted."  '  The  place  of  lxx;f  was 
supplied  by  "kid,  dressed  in  various  manners,  the  staple 
food  of  the  Italian  travellers,  and  which  is  often  so  various 
in  quality,  that  some  have  thought  its  place  is  occasionally 
supplied  by  a  canine  repref^;ntative."  * 

In  the  midflle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  we  are  told, 
"Butter  was  nearly  unknown  in  Rome  forty  years  since. 
There  is  now,  however,  a  large  dairy  near  the  tomb  to 
Cecilia  Metella,  where  it  may  be  had  very  good.  This 
progress  is  owing  to  the  arrival  at  Rome  of  numerous  Eng- 
lish travellers.    As  the  Roman  flairies,  however,  do  not  pro- 



vide  suflicicnt  duriui::  the  wnntor.  a  certain  quantity  is  re- 
ceived from  Lombardy.'  The  price  is  then  thirty  bajocchi  * 
per  pound,  but  in  the  summer  it  is  only  fourteen."  ' 

Another  notable  fact  is  cited  by  Baretti  in  1766:  "We 
have  not  yet  the  use  of  potatoes.  An  EngHsh  consul  in 
Venice  cultivates  them  with  good  success  in  his  fine  garden 
not  far  from  Mestre,  a  place  about  five  miles  from  Venice: 
but  few  of  his  Italian  guests  vAW  touch  them."  * 

As  a  striking  hint  of  what  might  be  lacking  in  realty  re- 
mote parts  of  the  country  we  may  note  that  at  the  very 
end  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  suggestion  is  made  that: 
"Families  who  remove  from  Naples  to  the  neighborhood 
of  Sorrento  during  the  summer  season  would  do  well  to 
take  with  them  vN-ine,  vinegar,  candles,  soap,  sugar,  tea, 
coffee,  and  medicines."  *  Yet  Sorrento  is  only  across  the 
bay  from  Naples.  At  Naples  itself  tea  and  sugar  were 
very  dear.^ 

Even  at  Tivoli,  four  or  five  hours'  drive  from  Rome,  and 
very  much  frequented,  one  fared  badly.  "Persons  who 
care  much  about  eating  should  talce  meat,  bread,  and  unne, 
with  them,  as  fish  and  eggs  are  the  only  provision  likely  to 
be  found  at  Tivoli."  '  In  our  own  day  the  entertainment 
set  before  the  transient  guest  at  Tivoli  is  far  from  ideal. 

Beyond  all  question,  the  English  tourist  who  wished  to 
be  even  moderately  satisfied  with  his  daily  food  was  well 
advised  to  keep  close  to  the  main  centers  of  supply.  And 
in  cities  like  Turin  and  Milan  and  Venice  and  Padua  and 
Florence  and  Rome  he  had  small  ground  for  complaint. 
The  bread  of  Padua,  the  wdne  of  Vicenza,  the  tripe  of  Tre- 
viso  were  proverbially  good.^  Moreover,  we  may  well  be- 
lieve, that  under  favorable  conditions  an  eighteenth-century 
tourist  who  gave  himself  the  necessary  trouble  could,  in 
most  of  the  larger  Italian  cities,  secure  quarters  that  were 
reasonably  satisfactory,  except  perhaps  in  mnter.  But 
what  average  comfort  in  winter  meant  in  Italy  we  may 
judge  from  the  fact  that  Goethe's  room  in  Naples  had  no 
fireplace  and  no  chimney,  though  he  was  there  in  Feb- 
ruary.'-'    Walpole  sutlcred  greatly  from  the  cold  in  Flor- 



encc,  and  that,  too,  in  the  house  of  an  ambassador.  In  any 
case,  if  the  tourist  chose  to  play  the  part  of  an  explorer  ofT 
the  beaten  track,  he  found  himself  compelled  to  live  like  a 
half-starved  peasant  and  to  submit  to  hardships  for  which 
he  was  entirely  unprepared. 


Inns  in  Germany 

Many  of  the  inns  of  Germany  put  a  severe  strain  upon 
the  patience  of  the  tourist.  In  the  larger  towns  he  could 
find  tolerable  accommodations,  and  in  a  few  cities  he  fared 
as  well  as  anywhere  in  Europe.  At  Frankfort,  for  example, 
he  could  go  to  the  Emperor  or  the  Red  House,  which,  "for 
cleanliness,  conveniency,  and  number  of  apartments,"  vied 
"with  the  most  magnificent  inns  in  England."  ^  Possibly 
one  reason  for  the  prosperity  of  the  Frankfort  inns  was 
that  they  claimed  as  a  guest  every  stranger  who  arrived 
in  the  city.  "The  innkeepers,"  we  are  told,  "will  not  allow 
a  stranger  to  take  up  his  quarters  at  a  private  house,  even 
though  he  eats  at  his  inn."  ^  Among  the  cities  having  inns 
of  high  reputation  we  may  note  Halberstadt,  which  in  our 
day  is  merely  a  small  city  with  an  interesting  cathedral  and 
quaint,  half-timbered  houses.  But  a  century  and  a  half 
ago  it  boasted  an  inn  which  was  in  the  same  class  with  the 
Three  Kings  at  Augsburg,  and  one  of  the  largest  in  Eu- 
rope.^ As  for  Augsburg,  "there  are,"  says  Nugent,  "sev- 
eral good  inns  in  the  city,  as  the  Imperial  Court,  the  Crown, 
the  King  of  the  Romans;  but  the  Three  Kings  is  one  of  the 
best  houses  in  Germany,  and  by  some  reckoned  the  most 
magnificent  inn  in  Europe.  Here  the  nobility  assemble 
commonly  every  evening  in  a  fine  hall  well  lighted,  where 
they  game,  sup  and  dance."  ■*  Nuremberg,  too,  afforded 
already  in  the  time  of  Misson  comfortable  entertainment 
for  the  passing  stranger,  and  so  did  Munich  and  Dresden 
and  Berlin. 

The  inns  of  Vienna  were  variously  judged,  according  to 



the  tourist's  cxporiotico.  but  tlioy  had  a  reputation  for 
ovorcharjiini::,  which  is  fairly  inaiutaiuod  in  our  day.  The 
tourist  was  ad\'ised:  "There  arc  a  jn*eat  many  very  good 
inns  at  Vienna,  as  the  Court  of  Bavaria,  the  Golden  Crown, 
the  Black  Kaj^le,  the  Black  Elephant,  etc.,  but  in  v^encral 
they  are  very  dear.  Those  who  have  occasioti  to  be  careful 
in  their  expenses  should  therefore  board  in  private  houses 
if  they  intend  to  make  any  stay  in  this  capital."  '  Mariana 
Starke,  at  the  end  of  the  century,  is  less  complimcnfai-y : 
"The  inns  of  this  City  are  bad  and  dear;  Wolf's  is  deemed 
the  best,  and  The  White  Bull  once  was  tolerable;  but 
the  present  nuister  is  so  notorious  a  Cheat  as  not  to  scruple, 
after  making;  a  clear  bari;:ain,  to  de\-iatc  from  it  in  every 
particular;  besides  which,  his  dinners  are  so  bad  that  it  is 
scarcely  possible  to  eat  them.  Indeed,  the  only  way  of  liv- 
ing comfortably  at  Vienna  is  to  take  a  private  lodging."  ^ 
At  Hamburg,  says  the  same  writer,  the  inns  were  "neither 
good  nor  cheap."  .  .  .  Private  lodgings  could  be  obtained ; 
though,  like  the  inns,  they  were  "bad  imd  dear."  ' 

But  the  worst  accommodations  in  the  cities  were  luxu- 
rious in  comparison  with  what  was  to  be  found  in  some  of 
the  country  districts.  Says  a  tourist  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  century,  "Nothing  can  be  more  UTctched  than  the 
country  you  pass  through  in  travelling  through  West- 
phalia; the  wTctched  inhabitants  uniting  poverty  with 
pride,  live  v\-ith  their  hogs  in  mud-walled  cottages,  a  dozen 
of  which  is  called,  b}'  courtesy,  a  village,  surrounded  by 
black  heaths,  and  wild  uncultivated  plains,  over  which  the 
unresisted  winds  sweep  \%-ith  a  velocity  scarce  to  be  con- 
ceived." *  This  picture  is  highly  colored  and  not  so  flatter- 
ing as  some  contemporary  Gennan  estimates  of  Westphalia, 
but  conditions  in  that  region  were,  at  all  events,  not  ar- 
ranged primarily  for  the  tourist.  "In  the  small  \'illagcs," 
says  Ricsbeck.  "there  are  no  inns,  and  a  man  is  forced  to 
put  up  with  the  small  fanners,  who  have  nothing  to  set 
before  him  but  brandy  or  potatoes,  or  some  salted  bacon 
and  brown  bread  made  of  bran."  *  The  bacon,  it  may  be 
remarked,  was  cured  in  the  house,  which  had  "no  outlet 



for  smoke  but  the  door."  "  In  regard  to  bed,  [the  traveller] 
must  tumble  pon-mell  in  a  lar^e  kind  of  bam,  where  the 
landlord  and  landlady,  men  and  maidservants,  and  pas- 
sengers of  both  sexes,  cows,  sheep,  and  horses  pig  all 
to^^ethcr  on  the  ground;  and  happy  he  that's  accommo- 
dated with  comfortable  clean  straw.  ...  In  cities  or 
large  towns  one  is  somewhat  better  entertained;  though 
there  is  little  occasion  to  commend  their  very  best  ac- 
commodations." * 

Lady  Mary  Montagu  traveled  through  Germany  in  17 16, 
and,  writing  from  Cologne,  says:  "We  hired  horses  from 
Nimeguen  hither,  not  having  the  conveniency  of  the  post, 
and  found  but  very  indifferent  accommodations  at  Rein- 
berg,  our  first  stage;  but  that  was  nothing  to  what  I  suf- 
fered yesterday.  We  were  in  hopes  to  reach  Cologn;  our 
horses  tired  at  Stamel,  three  hours  from  it,  where  I  was 
forced  to  pass  the  night  in  my  clothes,  in  a  room  not  at  all 
better  than  a  hovel;  for  though  I  have  my  own  bed  with 
me,  I  had  no  mind  to  undress,  where  the  wind  came  from  a 
thousand  places."  * 

When  she  reached  Bohemia  in  November  she  pronounced 
it  "the  most  desert  of  any  I  have  seen  in  Germany.  The 
villages  are  so  poor,  and  the  post-houses  so  miserable,  that 
clean  straw  and  fair  water  are  blessings  not  always  to  be 
met  with,  and  better  accommodation  not  to  be  hoped  for. 
Though  I  carried  my  own  bed  with  me,  I  could  not  some- 
times find  a  place  to  set  it  up  in;  and  I  rather  chose  to 
travel  all  night,  as  cold  as  it  is,  wrapped  up  in  my  furs, 
than  to  go  into  the  common  stoves,  which  are  filled  with 
a  mixture  of  all  sorts  of  ill  scents."  ^ 

What  was  true  of  these  regions  applied  equally  to  the 
south  side  of  the  Erzgebirge,  where  the  inns  were  "not  a  jot 
better  than  the  Spanish  ones."  * 

In  traveling  through  Friuli,  in  the  extreme  northeast  of 
Italy,  and  the  Austrian  Duchy  of  Camiola,  Dr.  Moore  de- 
clares, "The  inns  are  as  bad  as  the  roads  are  good;  for 
which  reason  we  chose  to  sleep  on  the  latter  rather  than  in 
the  former,  and  actually  travelled  five  days  and  nights 



without  stopping  any  longer  than  was  necessary  to  change 
horses."  ^ 

As  for  the  neighboring  Poland,  "The  duke  of  Yoric, 
bishop  of  Osnabruck,  and  uncle  to  his  present  Majesty  King 
George,  said  a  very  pertinent  thing.  .  .  .  'That  he  did  not 
know  a  country  where  travellers  were  more  at  home  than  in 
Poland,  because  they  were  always  making  use  of  their  own 
furniture.'"  ^    One  hardly  found  a  chair  to  sit  down  upon. 

The  comments  of  most  tourists  in  Germany  arc  anjply 
confirmed  by  Nugent.  Of  travel  in  Germany  he  says  that 
it  "is  cheaper  than  in  most  parts  of  Europe."  But,  he  adds, 
"The  accommodations  in  general  are  very  indifferent  upon 
the  road,  as  well  in  respect  to  provisions  as  lodging;  ^  very 
few  public  houses  (except  in  some  provinces,  as  Saxony 
and  Austria)  being  provided  with  regular  entertainment  for 
passengers.  ...  In  their  houses  one  seldom  sees  a  fire,'* 
except  in  the  kitchen;  but  their  rooms  are  heated  by  a 
stove  or  oven  to  what  degree  they  desire.  There  is  one 
thing  very  particular  to  them,  that  they  do  not  cover 
themselves  with  bed-clothes,  but  lay  one  feather-bed  over, 
and  another  under.  This  is  comfortable  enough  in  winter, 
but  how  they  can  bear  the  feather-beds  over  them  in  sum- 
mer, as  is  generally  practised,  I  cannot  conceive."  ^ 

The  German  feather  bed  occasionally  puzzled  foreign 
tourists.  "Some  poor  Frenchmen  being  conducted  to  their 
bedchamber,  one  of  them  espying  a  feather-bed  over,  and 
another  under,  imagined  that  there  was  a  design  to  make 
them  lie  one  upon  another  for  want  of  room.  Upon 
which  he  addressed  himself  to  the  servant,  and  desired  him 
to  choose  one  of  his  lightest  companions  to  put  over  him, 
alledging  that  he  was  not  accustomed  to  lie  in  this 

Nor  did  Englishmen  take  kindly  to  the  German  type  of 
bed.  All  readers  of  Hood's  "Up  the  Rhine"  will  recall 
the  picture  of  the  "worthy  uncle"  of  one  of  the  party 
found  in  the  morning  "lying  broad  awake,  on  his  back,  in 
a  true  German  bedstead  —  a  sort  of  wooden  box  or  trough, 
so  much  too  short  for  him,  that  his  legs  extended  half-a- 



yard  beyond  it  on  either  side  of  the  foot-board.  Above 
him,  on  his  chest  and  stomach,  from  his  chin  to  his  knees, 
lay  a  huge  squab  or  cushion,  covered  with  a  gay-patterned 
chintz,  and  ornamented  at  each  comer  with  a  fine  tassel,  — 
looking  equally  handsome,  glossy,  cold,  and  uncomfort- 
able. For  fear  of  deranging  this  article,  he  could  only  turn 
his  eyes  towards  me  as  I  entered,  and  when  he  spoke,  it 
was  with  a  voice  that  seemed  weak  and  broken  from  ex- 
haustion. 'Frank,  I've  passed  a  miserable  nighj;.  ...  I 
have  n't  —  slept  —  a  wink.  .  .  .  Did  you  ever  see  such  a 
thing  as  that  ? '  with  a  slight  nod  and  roll  of  his  eyes  towards 
the  cushion.  I  shook  my  head.  'If  I  moved  —  it  fell  off; 
and  if  I  did  n't,  I  got  —  the  cramp.' " 

In  general,  the  German  conception  of  comfort  was  not 
English.  "The  Germans  seldom  have  a  wash-hand  basin 
in  any  of  their  country  inns;  and  even  at  Villach,  a  large 
town,  we  could  not  find  one :  the  inn  we  slept  at,  however, 
(its  sign  The  Crown,)  is  clean  and  good,  though  tall  people 
cannot  sleep  comfortably  either  here  or  in  any  part  of 
Germany:  the  beds,  which  are  very  narrow,  being  placed 
in  wooden  frames,  or  boxes,  so  short  that  any  body  who 
happens  to  be  above  five  feet  high  must  absolutely  sit  up 
all  night  supported  by  pillows;  and  this  is,  in  fact,  the 
way  in  which  the  Germans  sleep."  ^ 

As  for  food,  travelers  were  advised  to  carry  provisions 
between  towns,  for  there  was  no  certainty  of  finding  much 
that  was  good  along  the  road  but  wine.^  A  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ago,  to  a  far  greater  degree  than  is  now  the  case, 
inns  throughout  Europe  were  dependent  upon  the  supplies 
from  the  immediate  neighborhood,  and  where  this  was  un- 
productive the  inn  table  provided  starvation  fare.  Par- 
ticularly was  this  the  case  in  Westphalia,  where  in  the 
towns  the  traveler  fared  ill,  and  "in  the  public  inns  along 
the  road  and  in  small  places"  he  was  entertained  with 
"miserable  pompemickel,  with  bacon  half  raw,  and 
wretched  beer."  ^ 

In  more  favored  regions  the  guest  had  an  embarrassment 
of  choice ;  and  it  is  needless  to  specify  more  than  one  or  two 



typical  cities.  Cogan  gives  particulars  of  an  elaborate 
dinner,  handsomely  served,  that  he  got  at  Diisseldorf,  with 
"soups,  fish,  roast  and  boiled  meats,  game,  poultry,  vege- 
tables, and  fruits  of  various  kinds  ..."  for  which  he  paid 
tenpence.^  Excellent  fare  also  was  to  be  had  at  Prague; 
"the  poultry  is  peculiarly  good;  there  is  a  plenty  of  game 
that  is  astonishing;  no  inn  so  wretched  but  you  have  a 
pheasant  for  your  supper,  and  often  partridge  soup."^ 
But  this  same  writer  warns  travelers  going  from  Vienna  to 
Prague  that  the  fare  along  the  road  is  indifferent,  and  that 
"it  would  be  perhaps  more  prudent  to  carry  some  cold 
provisions  with  you  in  your  chaise."  ^ 

Nor  were  provisions  the  only  necessaries  of  the  table  that 
the  fastidious  traveler  might  carry.  In  journeying  through 
Austria,  says  Mariana  Starke,  "We  were  actually  obliged 
to  purchase  a  couple  of  tablecloths  and  six  napkins  on  our 
journey,  so  terribly  were  we  annoyed  by  the  dirty  linen 
which  was  produced  everywhere  but  in  the  very  large 
towns."  * 

Balancing  the  good  with  the  bad  we  may  easily  see  that, 
to  one  bent  upon  pleasure,  travel  in  Germany  a  century 
and  a  half  ago  seemed  to  offer  rather  more  annoyance  than 
satisfaction.  At  all  events,  comfort  was  hardly  to  be 
found  outside  a  few  large  towns. 

The  Inns  of  the  Low  Countries 

On  some  of  the  inns  of  the  Low  Countries  much  praise 
was  bestowed  by  eighteenth-century  travelers.  The  inns 
of  The  Hague  were  declared  by  one  writer  to  be  undoubtedly 
the  best  in  the  world.^  Nugent  says  of  the  inns  or  eating- 
houses  at  Brussels  that  they  "are  equal  to  any  in  Europe; 
and  a  stranger  has  this  advantage,  that  for  less  than  twenty- 
pence  English,  he  knows  where  to  dine  at  any  time  betwixt 
twelve  and  three  on  seven  or  eight  dishes.  The  wines  are 
very  good  and  cheap;  and  for  six-pence  English  by  the  hour, 



you  have  a  coach  that  carries  you  wherever  you  have  a 
mind."  ^ 

As  a  capital  city  Brussels,  which  even  then  aspired  in  a 
small  way  to  rival  Paris,  had  the  most  luxiirious  inns  in 
the  Austrian  Low  Countries,  but  one  could  be  very  com- 
fortable at  Ghent,  at  Bruges,  at  Li^ge,  at  Ypres,  and  in 
many  other  places.  Young  pronounces  the  Concierge  at 
Dunkirk  "a  good  inn,  as  indeed  I  have  found  in  all  Flan- 
ders." 2 

Owing  to  the  frequent  intercourse  between  England  and 
Holland  there  were  in  more  than  one  Dutch  city  English 
houses  for  the  entertainment  of  strangers.  Of  such  houses 
in  Amsterdam  there  were  usually  two  or  three  .^  At  The 
Hague  there  was  "a  good  house"  whither  English  travelers 
"who  speak  no  language  but  their  own  may  resort,"^  and 
similar  accommodation  was  to  be  had  at  Leyden  and  es- 
pecially at  Rotterdam.  Special  advantages  of  these  Eng- 
lish houses  were  that  not  only  were  they  as  cheap  as  the 
Dutch  inns,  but  they  provided  "victuals  dressed  after  the 
English  way"  and  were  less  likely  to  impose  upon  unwary 
tourists.  The  names  and  character  of  the  houses  could  be 
learned  from  the  captain  of  the  vessel  one  crossed  on  or 
from  the  merchant  to  whom  one  was  recommended.^ 

Inns  that  were  thoroughly  Dutch  were  as  a  rule  impreg- 
nated with  the  smell  of  tobacco,  and  on  the  tea-tables  had 
spitting-pots  placed  "often  much  too  like  the  cream  pot  in 
shape."  ^  But  to  the  general  neatness  of  the  Dutch  inns 
all  travelers  bear  witness.  The  floors  were  daily  scoured 
and  sanded,  and  the  silver  and  pewter  and  copper  platters 
shone  like  mirrors.  Clean  linen  and  soft  beds  might  be 
safely  counted  on  at  the  inns  and  pubhc  houses  throughout 
the  country. 

Yet  there  were  some  drawbacks.  "Their  bedsteads,  or 
rather  cabins  in  the  sides  of  the  wall,  are  placed  so  high, 
that  a  man  may  break  his  neck,  if  he  happens  to  fall  out 
of  them.  Besides,  a  traveller  must  be  content  to  lie  with 
half  a  dozen  people,  or  more,  in  the  same  room,  and  be 
disturbed  all  night  long  by  somebody  or  other,  if  the  churl 



of  a  landlord  chooses  to  have  it  so.  It  is  true,  in  the  cities 
you  are  accommodated  in  a  genteeler  way.  There  is  no 
disputing  with  a  Dutch  innkeeper,  either  about  the  reck- 
oning or  any  other  particular;  if  you  find  fault  with  his 
bill  (tho'  properly  spealdng  they  make  no  bills,  but  bring 
in  the  reckoning  by  word  of  mouth)  he  will  immediately 
raise  it,  and  procure  a  magistrate  to  levy  his  demands  by 
force."  1 

Strangers  making  a  longer  stay  than  the  ordinary  tran- 
sient guest  found  their  advantage  in  taking  private  lodg- 
ings, which  at  The  Hague  cost  about  the  same  as  in  Lon- 
don, and  commonly  permitted  the  lodger  to  board  in  the 
same  house  at  a  moderate  expense.' 




Up  to  this  point  the  traveler  himself  has  necessarily  been 
crowded  into  the  background,  but  from  now  on  he  must  be 
the  center  of  interest.  In  order  to  understand  the  fondness 
of  Englishmen  for  travel  in  the  eighteenth  century,  we 
must,  however,  glance  for  a  moment  at  the  growing  pros- 
perity of  England  in  the  period  we  are  studying  and  en- 
deavor to  realize  the  conditions  that  in  some  sense  made 
touring  a  social  obligation. 

The  eighteenth  century  wrought  a  vast  transformation 
in  England,  though,  owing  to  the  lack  of  startling  events 
on  English  soil,  the  casual  reader  of  English  social  history 
too  often  thinks  of  the  eighteenth  century  as  a  time  of 
stagnation.  Yet  the  War  of  the  Spanish  Succession,  the 
great  religious  revival,  the  Seven  Years'  War,  the  conquest 
of  India,  the  long  war  with  the  American  colonies,  the  de- 
velopment of  colonies  in  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe,  and 
the  vast  increase  in  commerce  —  these,  and  scores  of  other 
things  that  might  be  cited,  are  enough  to  prove  that  Eng- 
lishmen were  constantly  receiving  new  impressions  from 
every  side. 

More  than  ever  before  Englishmen  were  interested  in 
foreign  lands  and  travel,  and,  particularly  after  the  Seven 
Years'  War,  they  flocked  to  the  Continent  in  great  num- 
bers. There  were,  indeed,  few  places  so  remote  that  one 
could  safely  count  on  finding  no  English  tourists  there. 
But  in  general  they  tended  to  follow  conventional  routes 
and  to  flock  together  in  great  numbers  in  a  few  centers. 

First  and  last,  the  number  of  English  travelers  in  Italy 
was  considerable.     Baretti,  who  published  his  "Manners 



and  Customs  of  Italy"  in  176S,  estimates  that  in  the  pre- 
ceding seventeen  years  "more  than  ten  thousand  EngHsh 
(masters  and  servants)  have  been  running  up  and  down 
Italy."  The  aggregate  appears  large,  but  when  we  consider 
that  this  means  no  more  than  five  or  six  hundred  a  j'car 
we  see  that  out  of  a  population  of  six  or  seven  millions 
scarcely  one  Englishman  in  ten  thousand  found  his  way  to 

"But  in  the  latter  half  of  the  century  the  movement  to- 
wards the  Continent  was  much  more  general,  and  foreign 
travel  became  the  predominating  passion  of  a  large  portion 
of  the  English  people.  'Where  one  Englishman  traveled,' 
wrote  an  acute  observer  in  1772,  'in  the  reigns  of  the  first 
two  Georges,  ten  now  go  on  a  grand  tour.  Indeed,  to  such 
a  pitch  is  the  spirit  of  travelling  come  in  the  kingdom,  that 
there  is  scarce  a  citizen  of  large  fortune  but  takes  a  fljnng 
view  of  France,  Italy,  and  Germany  in  a  summer  excur- 
sion.' ^  Gibbon  wrote  from  Lausanne  describing  the  crowd 
of  English  who  were  already  thronging  the  beautiful  shores 
of  Lake  Leman,  and  he  mentions  that  he  was  told  —  though 
it  seemed  to  him  incredible  —  that  in  the  summer  of  17 85 
more  than  40,000  English  —  masters  and  servants  —  were 
on  the  Continent."  - 

But  there  was  a  vast  difference  between  the  scholars 
who  poured  into  Italy  to  gamer  the  new  learning  at  the 
time  of  the  Re\'ival  of  Letters  and  the  young  spendthrifts 
of  the  eighteenth  century  who  dawdled  away  their  time  in 
the  capitals  of  the  Continent.  Apart  from  indi\4dual  dif- 
ferences, the  Englishmen  who  traveled  in  the  first  half  of 
the  century  had  much  in  common.  Most  of  them  belonged 
to  wealthy,  and  many  to  titled,  families.  In  the  course 
of  the  century  the  increasing  wealth  of  the  mercantile  and 
professional  classes  brought  a  large  increase  in  the  number 
of  young  tourists,  with  a  very  short  pedigree  but  a  very 
long  purse,  who  washed  to  gain  whatever  social  distinction 
travel  might  confer.  It  is  worth  noting  that,  as  had  long 
been  the  case,  a  large  proportion  of  the  travelers  were  men. 
For  this  many  reasons  may  be  given;  but,  apart  from  the 



fact  that  foreign  travel  was  in  a  peculiar  sense  regarded  as 
a  necessary  finish  for  a  young  gentleman's  education,  a 
sufficient  explanation  is  found  in  the  conditions  under  which 
the  Continental  tour  was  made. 

As  we  have  elsewhere  noted,  travel  in  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries  was  extremely  difficult  and  some- 
times dangerous,  and  most  women  were  physically  un- 
fitted to  endure  the  strain  of  a  long  journey.  With  the 
increase  of  comfort  and  the  improvement  of  roads,  travel 
became  somewhat  easier,  and  Englishwomen,  some  of  them 
very  notable,  ventured  as  far  as  Rome  or  Vienna.  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu  made  the  long  journey  to  Con- 
stantinople and  back,  but  up  to  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century  women  were  far  less  numerous  than  men  among 
Continental  tourists.  Lady  Mary,  in  one  of  her  letters, 
refers  to  the  conclave  at  Rome,  and  adds,  "We  expect  after 
it  a  fresh  cargo  of  English;  but,  God  be  praised,  I  hear  of 
no  ladies  among  them."  ^  Most  parties  of  tourists  afforded 
the  same  reason  for  gratitude. 

With  abundant  wealth  and  leisure  and  with  a  more 
restless  disposition  than  any  other  people  in  Europe,^  the 
English  were  the  most  active  travelers  of  the  eighteenth 
century.^  Men  in  society  were  expected  to  be  familiar 
with  the  principal  sights  of  the  Continental  cities,  and  to 
acquire  in  the  chief  capitals  of  Europe  that  knowledge  of 
the  world  which  marked  the  cosmopolitan.  One  could  not 
be  a  member  of  the  exclusive  Dilettanti  Club  without  being 
acquainted  with  Italy.'* 

But,  obviously,  when  the  grand  tour  became  a  conven- 
tional affair  and  merely  an  evidence  of  good  breeding,  it 
ceased  to  be  primarily  educational.  In  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, as  in  our  own  day,  hosts  of  travelers  flocked  to  the 
Continent  from  England  with  no  other  aim  than  to  while 
away  a  few  months  or  years  as  idly  as  possible.^  Paris  or 
Turin  or  Florence  or  Rome  or  Berlin  in  turn  afforded  them 
entertainment,  and  they  asked  for  nothing  more.  Gallic 
smartness  of  repartee,  a  knowing  air,  an  easy  grace,  counted 
for  more  in  the  circles  in  which  they  moved  than  familiarity 


THE    TOrillSr    AND    THE   TUTOR 

\\-ith  art  or  history  or  sdoiuv  or  any  other  serious  subjeet. 
From  the  point  of  view  of  the  wealthy  yoinig  tonrist,  under 
no  obligation  to  cam  a  liNniig  and  N^th  no  expectation  of 
puttins:  his  knowledi^e  of  foiviv;ii  eovnUries  to  any  practical 
use.  there  was  no  pressiiii:  need  of  seeing  anything  thor- 

As  might  be  expected,  then,  great  luunbers  of  travelers 
were  at  a  loss  to  know  how  to  spend  their  time  abroad. 
The  hours  passed  slowly  between  meals.  They  sootr ex- 
hausted what  little  it\tea^st  they  had  in  seeing  buildings 
and  pictua^s  that  they  wea-*  too  igiiorant  to  api>reciate. 
They  played  cards  with  one  another,  took  walks  or  drives 
into  the  country,  and  gathea\l  in  crowds  to  watch  the  ar- 
riving and  departing  diligeiKVS.  They  n\issed  the  faiuihar 
English  sights,  and  were  as  imeasy  as  cats  in  a  strange  gar- 
ret. Englishmen  of  this  type  traveled  in  order  to  spend 
their  n\oney  and  ease  a  vacatu  mind,  and  they  wen^  as 
dull  and  inane  at  Versailles  or  in  the  Coliseun\  as  they 
were  at  St.  James's  or  at  Newmarket.  In  so  far  as  they 
had  any  curiosity,  it  was  a>served  for  "Palaces,  gardens, 
statues,  pictures,  antiquities,  iuui  productions  of  art."  * 
which  they  viewed  in  a  hasty  fashion.  li\sutT\ciently 
equipped  to  appaxnate  the  signiticance  of  nuich  that  they 
saw.  they  drifted  from  one  city  to  another,  and  were  little 
the  wiser  for  their  trouble. 

Our  age  is  cc>mmonly  described  as  a  time  of  restless  hurry, 
but  we  can  hardly  exceed  the  haste  with  which  eighteenth- 
century  travelers  posted  through  interesting  cities  without 
stopping.  Tlie  small  distance  that  they  covered  in  a  day 
or  week  makes  their  progress  as  a  whole  seem  leisuaMy,' 
but  the  aMuoteness  of  Rome  or  Vienna  compelled  them  to 
push  onward  with  little  opportxmity  of  seeing  on  the  way 
many  sights  that  were  almost  under  their  eyes.  In  many 
cases  tourists  neglected  important  sights  through  slieer  in- 
ditleaMice.  Evchni  cites  a  tN-^Mcal  instance.  At  Vicenza, 
sa>*s  he.  "I  would  fain  have  \-isited  a  PiUaco,  called  the 
Rotunda,  which  was  a  mile  out  of  town.  Ix^longing  to  Count 
Martio  Capra ;  but  one  of  our  companions  hastening  to  be 



gone,  and  little  mindin;^  anything  save  drinking  and  folly, 
caused  us  to  take  coach  sooner  than  we  should  have  done."  * 

The  unintelli^^cnt  way  in  v/hich  many  Enj^lish  travelers 
employed  their  time  led  moralists  to  regard  much  of  the 
touring  of  the  Ojntinent  as  mere  active  idleness:  "Too 
many  of  our  young  travellers  betray  the  sympU^ms  of  this 
disease.  The  precipitation  with  which  they  hurry  from 
place  to  place,  the  shortness  of  their  stay  v/here  it  ought  trj 
be  of  some  duration,  and  its  length  where  no  reasons  can 
justify  it;  their  little  notice  of  things  deserving  much  con- 
sideration, and  their  extraordinary  attention  to  matters  of 
small  moment;  their  neglect  of  u:-x;ful  or  agreeable  knowl- 
edge and  information,  and  their  shameful  preference  of 
uninteresting  and  trivial  subjects;  these  and  other  instances 
of  gross  misconduct  have  long  contributed  to  make  travel- 
ling a  business  of  great  charge  and  little  profit."  ' 

"To  lessen  the  Trouble  which  young  Dilettanti  often 
meet  with  Abroad  in  their  Virtuo!,o  Pursuits,"  says  Breval, 
"has  been  one  of  my  principal  Aims  in  this  Undertaking: 
So  common  it  is  to  see  them  following  a  Wild  Goose  Chace 
under  the  conduct  of  some  ignorant  Tomb-shewer;  over- 
looking Things  of  the  greatest  Importance,  while  their 
Attention  is  taken  up  with  Trifles;  and  posting  thro'  a 
Town  where  they  might  spend  a  Week  with  Pleasure  and 
Profit,  to  make  a  Month's  Halt  perhaps  at  another,  which 
would  be  half  a  Day's  Stop  to  a  Man  of  Taste  and  Ex- 
perience." ^ 

To  the  same  purport,  but  more  picturesquely,  Cogan  re- 
marks: "Should  their  road  lead  through  Paradirse  itself; 
or  should  they  have  taken  a  long  and  tedious  journey  ex- 
pressly to  see  the  garden  of  Eden,  it  is  a  question  whether 
our  impetuous  gentlemen  would  not  tip  the  post-boy  half 
a  crown  extraordinary  to  mend  his  pace,  as  they  were  driv- 
ing through  it!"  * 

People  of  other  nationalities  did  not  fail  to  remark  upon 
the  pectdiar  methods  of  the  English.  "The  French  have 
an  opinion,"  says  a  contemporary  Engli;ih  v/riter,  "that 
the  English  are  ...  in  such  a  violent  hurry  upon  the  road, 



that  if  some  little  delay  is  occasioned,  they  w-ill  rather  leave 
their  money  behind  than  stay  to  recover  it."  ' 

Dupaty,  in  his  "Letters  on  Italy,"  observes:  "In  a  hun- 
dred there  are  not  two  that  seek  to  instruct  themselves. 
To  cover  leai::iies  on  land  or  on  water;  to  talce  punch  and 
tea  at  the  inns ;  to  speak  ill  of  all  the  other  nations,  and  to 
boast  without  ceasing  of  their  own;  that  is  what  the  crowd 
of  the  English  call  travelling.  The  post-book  is  the  only 
one  in  which  they  instruct  themselves."  ^  They  aftiply 
illustrate  Babeau's  comment  on  most  travelers,  that  they 
see  only  the  outsides  of  things,  "monuments  rather  than 
men,  .  .  .  inns  rather  than  houses,  .  .  .  routes  rather  than 
the  coimtry."  ' 

As  the  sight-seeing  was  largely  a  conventional  duty,  some 
tourists  wasted  as  little  effort  upon  it  as  possible.  Dr. 
Moore  cites  an  amusing  instance  of  economy  of  time  in  see- 
ing Rome.  "One  j^oung  English  gentleman,  who  happens 
not  to  be  violently  smitten  with  the  charms  of  virtu  and 
scorns  to  afTcet  what  he  does  not  feel,  thought  that  two  or 
three  hours  a  day  for  a  month  or  six  weeks  together  was 
rather  too  much  time  to  bestow  on  a  piu-suit  in  which  he 
felt  no  pleasure,  and  saw  very  little  utility.  The  only  ad- 
vantage which,  in  his  opinion,  the  greater  part  of  us  reaped 
from  our  six  weeks'  tour  was  that  we  could  say  we  had  seen 
a  great  many  fine  things  wliich  he  had  not  seen.  Being 
fully  conN^nced  that  the  business  might  be,  with  a  little 
exertion,  despatched  in  a  very  short  space  of  time,  he  pre- 
vailed on  a  proper  person  to  attend  him;  ordered  a  post 
chaise  and  four  horses  to  be  ready  early  in  the  morning, 
and  driving  through  churches,  palaces,  villas,  and  ruins, 
with  all  possible  expedition,  he  fairly  saw,  in  two  days,  all 
that  we  had  beheld  during  our  crawling  course  of  six  weeks. 
I  found  afterwards,  by  the  list  he  kept  of  what  he  had  done, 
that  we  had  not  the  advantage  of  him  in  a  single  picture, 
or  the  most  mutilated  remnant  of  a  statue."  * 

Traveling  with  haste  and  inattention  as  they  did,  the 
observations  of  most  tourists  were  of  singularly  little 
value.    We  have  a  good  number  of  eighteenth-century  ac- 



counts  of  tours  in  France  and  Italy,  but,  althou^^h  a  few 
give  evidence  of  competence  for  the  task,  the  majority  do 
little  more  than  repeat  the  well-worn  stock  of  conventional 
information.  Walpole  is  a  typical  and  very  favorah)le  ex- 
ample. He  was  in  every  fiber  a  man  of  the  world  and  ex- 
ceptionally clever;  he  could  not  fail  to  be  entertaining  if  he 
tried;  but  many  of  his  comments  on  things  abroad  are 
strikingly  superficial.  Two  of  his  letters  written  in  1740, 
the  first  in  January  and  the  last  in  October,  well  illustrate 
how  rapidly  he  lost  his  keen  interest  in  the  very  sights  he 
had  gone  so  far  to  see.  "I  see  several  things  that  please 
me  calmly,  but,  a  force  d'en  avoir  m,  I  have  left  off  scream- 
ing Lord!  this!  and  Lord!  that!  To  speak  sincerely, 
Calais  surprised  me  more  than  any  thing  I  have  seen  since. 
I  recollect  the  joy  I  used  to  propose  if  I  could  but  see  the 
Great  Duke's  gallery;  I  walk  into  it  now  with  as  little  emo- 
tion as  I  should  into  St.  Paul's."  ^  "When  I  first  came 
abroad  every  thing  struck  me,  and  I  wrote  its  history;  but 
now  I  am  grown  so  used  to  be  surprised,  that  I  don't  per- 
ceive any  flutter  in  myself  when  I  meet  with  any  novelties; 
curiosity  and  astonishment  wear  off,  and  the  next  thing  is, 
to  fancy  that  other  people  know  as  much  of  places  as  one's 
self;  or,  at  least,  one  does  not  remember  that  they  do  not."  ^ 
"I  have  contracted  so  great  an  aversion  to  inns  and  post- 
chaises,  and  have  so  absolutely  lost  all  curiosity,  that, 
except  the  towns  in  the  straight  road  to  Great  Britain,  I 
shall  scarce  see  a  jot  more  of  a  foreign  land."  ^ 

As  might  be  expected,  then,  the  comments  in  most 
eighteenth-century  books  of  travel  are  singularly  common- 
place. When  we  exclude  a  few  well-known  works,  those 
that  remain  are  full  of  remarks  trivial  in  the  extreme.'' 
Were  it  not  laughable,  the  flippant  way  in  which  some  trav- 
elers dispose  of  cities  like  Padua,  Verona,  Vicenza,  Siena, 
and  many  others,  as  containing  little  or  nothing  worth  see- 
ing, would  stir  our  wrath.  At  Siena  even  Dupaty  found 
nothing  remarkable  except  the  group  of  the  three  graces  in 
the  cathedral.^ 

Another  typical  instance  is  Pistoia.    Few  places  of  its 



size  in  all  Europe  can  boast  such  a  wealth  of  art  and  of  pic- 
turesque architecture.  Yet  Evelyn,  who  was  far  above  the 
average  tourist  in  intelligence,  recorded  in  his  Diary 
merely:  "We  dined  at  Pistoia,  where,  besides  one  church, 
there  is  Httle  observable."'  Bromley  says  of  Pistoia: 
"I  had  Httle  time  for  seeing  this  place,  staying  only  the 
changing  caleshes;  it  is  an  old  place,  and  I  was  assured 
had  very  little  worthy  notice."  ^  Misson,  who  should  have 
known  better,  says:  "There  is  nothing  in  Pistoia  that- de- 
serves either  the  trouble  or  charge  of  going  out  of  the  way 
to  see  it."  ^  The  usually  keen-eyed  De  Brosses  remarks, 
"This  city,  ancient  and  deserted,  appeared  to  me  to  have 
nothing  remarkable  except  the  baptistery.  .  .  .  Opposite 
the  baptistery  is  the  cathedral,  with  the  air  of  a  village 
church."  *  And  Northall  in  1752  merely  observes:  "Ruin, 
desolation,  and  indolence  are  seen  in  all  the  streets,  which 
are  well  paved,  with  large  flags."  ^  Even  Mariana  Starke's 
accounts  of  notable  places  are  often  vague  and  entirely 
lacking  in  distinctiveness,^  or  they  arbitrarily  single  out 
an  item  or  two  and  ignore  everything  else. 

Yet  these  travellers  were  far  above  the  average  run. 
Those  who  did  not  venture  to  put  their  experiences  into 
print,  but  who  chattered  constantly  about  what  they  had 
seen,  were  more  fairly  representative.  On  the  utterances 
of  this  type  of  tourists  Steele  has  some  interesting  com- 
ments in  the  "Spectator,"  No.  474:  "But  the  most  irk- 
some Conversation  of  all  others  I  have  met  with  in  the 
Neighborhood,  has  been  among  two  or  three  of  your  Trav- 
ellers, who  have  overlooked  Men  and  Manners,  and  have 
passed  through  France  and  Italy  with  the  same  observation 
that  the  Carriers  and  Stage-Coachmen  do  through  Great 
Britain;  that  is,  their  Stops  and  Stages  have  been  regu- 
lated according  to  the  Liquor  they  have  met  with  in  their 
Passages.  They  indeed  remember  the  Names  of  abundance 
of  Places,  with  the  particular  Fineries  of  certain  Churches. 
But  their  distinguishing  Mark  is  certain  Prettinesses  of 
Foreign  Languages,  the  Meaning  of  which  they  could  have 
better  express'd  in  their  own.    The  Entertainment  of  these 




fine  Observers,  Shakes  pear  has  described  to  consist  In  talk- 
ing of  the  Alps  and  Apennines,  The  Pyrenean,  and  the  River 
Po,*  and  then  concludes  with  a  Sigh,  Now  this  is  worshipful 

Obviously,  the  offhand  estimates  of  foreign  lands  that 
such  tourists  made  were  often  grotesquely  false.  But  the 
more  ambitious  accounts  attempted  by  travelers  who  drew 
sweeping  conclusions  from  limited  data  were  little  better, 
"An  author  of  this  cast,  after  a  slight  survey  of  the  prov- 
inces through  which  he  has  had  occasion  to  take  a  short 
ramble,  returns  home,  and  snatching  up  his  pen  in  the  rage 
of  reformation,  fills  pages  on  pages  with  scurrilous  narra- 
tions of  pretended  absurdities,  intermixed  with  the  most 
shocking  tales  of  fancied  crimes ;  very  gravely  insisting  that 
those  crimes  and  absurdities  were  not  single  actions  of  this 
or  that  individual,  but  general  pictures  of  nature  in  the 
countries  through  which  he  has  travelled."  ^ 

Baretti  has  particularly  in  mind  the  "  Letters  from  Italy  " 
of  Dr.  Sharp,  who,  as  he  declares,  "was  ignorant  of  the 
Italian  language;  was  of  no  high  rank;  and  was  afflicted 
with  bodily  disorders."  ^  "Sharp,"  says  Baretti,  "saw 
little,  inquired  less,  and  reflected  not  at  all;  blindly  fol- 
lowing his  travelling  predecessors  in  their  invectives 
against  the  pope's  government."  *  As  a  whole,  he  charac- 
terizes Sharp's  book  as  "the  production  of  a  mind  unjustly 
exasperated  against  a  people,  whose  individuals  either 
knew  him  not,  or,  if  they  knew  him,  treated  him  with  be- 
nevolence and  civility,  as  they  do  all  the  English,  and  all 
other  strangers  who  visit  their  country."  ^ 

The  uncompromising  attitude  of  Sharp  and  of  many  other 
English  tourists  toward  Italy  was  doubtless  in  part  due  to 
their  Protestantism.  Not  that  the  ordinary  traveling  Eng- 
lishman in  the  eighteenth  century  was  enthusiastic  over 
his  religion;  but  he  had  an  instinctive  dislike  of  popery, 
and  more  than  a  little  contempt  for  the  usages  of  the  Roman 
Church.  To  some  extent  his  feeling  was  shared  by  many 
intelligent  Frenchmen  and  Italians,  who  gave  only  a  nomi- 
nal allegiance  to  the  traditional  beliefs,  and  often  not  even 



that.  On  the  Continent  the  fires  of  the  Reformation  and 
of  the  counter-Refonnation  had  well-niij;h  burned  out,  so 
that  the  average  Protestant  might  go  where  he  pleased  and 
do  about  as  he  pleased.  But  English  Catholics  were  rare 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  English  travelers  in  France 
and  Italy  not  unnaturally  viewed  with  ill-concealed  disdain 
the  ceremonies  and  pictures  and  images  and  relics  that 
they  regarded  as  childish  or  heathenish.  One  traveler  re- 
marks on  the  old  masters  that  "almost  all  their  paintings 
are  of  the  same  strain,  to  promote  idolatry  and  superstition 
of  some  kind  or  other."  '  And  a  few  pages  later  he  says: 
"Sometimes  a  priest  or  friar  of  their  society  gives  them  a 
detail  of  nonsense  in  praise  of  that  saint,  and  of  the  piety  of 
their  institution,  and  such  like,  which  they  call  a  scnnon. 
We  have  heard  some  of  these  fulsome  discourses,  and  have 
been  much  surprised  at  the  feigned  raptures  of  the  preacher, 
and  the  amazing  ignorance  and  simplicity  of  the  hearers."  ^ 
Like  Sharp,  the  novelist  Smollett  embodied  his  experi- 
ences on  the  Continent  in  a  well-known  work.  Smollett 
has  the  querulous  and  petulant  tone  of  a  nervous  invalid, 
who  sees  everything  through  jaundiced  eyes  and  makes 
sweeping  assertions  based  upon  an  occasional  unpleasant 
experience.  In  no  case  is  it  safe  to  allow  him  the  final  word 
in  judging  any  part  of  the  Continent,  though  his  keen  eye 
and  marvelous  descriptive  faculty  enable  him  to  picture 
indi\'idual  facts  and  scenes  with  great  accuracy.  One  might 
easily  gather  from  his  pages  a  choice  collection  of  vitu- 
perative adjectives,  usually  in  the  superlative  degree,  for 
he  taxes  the  resources  of  the  language  to  express  his  dis- 
gust at  the  treatment  he  received  from  scoundrels  of  every 
sort.  Smollett  had,  indeed,  one  long  series  of  quarrels  with 
carriage  drivers,  innkeepers,  and  servants  in  his  journey 
through  France  and  Italy.  Some  of  these  squabbles  were 
unquestionably  due  to  annojdng  exactions  and  petty  knav- 
ery, but.  as  he  confesses  himself,  a  small  additional  outlay 
would  have  enabled  him  to  avoid  most  of  them.' 




Absurd  as  were  some  of  the  English  estimates  of  men  and 
thmgs  on  the  Continent,  they  were  due  not  wholly  to  per- 
sonal, temperamental  prejudice,  but  in  part  to  the  alto- 
gether inadequate  preparation  for  travel  that  many  tourists 
had.    If  one  may  trust  Gibbon,  eighteenth-century  students 
were  only  too  likely  to  emerge  from  an  English  university 
almost  as  ignorant  as  when  they  entered.    In  any  case  their 
range  of  information  was  singularly  narrow.     Says  a  very 
competent  observer:   "It  is  easy  to  perceive  that  the  Eng- 
hsh  universities  are  in  less  repute  than  they  were  formerly. 
The  rich  and  great,  who,  at  one  time,  would  on  no  account 
have  omitted  to  send  their  sons  thither,  now  frequently 
place  them  under  some  private  tutor  to  finish  them,  as  it  is 
called,  and  then  immediately  send  them  on  their  travels. "^ 
We  must  admit  that  exceptional  men  like  Warburton  and 
Blackstone  and   Mansfield  and  Wesley  and  Chesterfield 
and  Johnson  and  Gibbon,  and  many  others  who  attended 
the  universities,  did,  sooner  or  later,  in  spite  of  great  laxity 
in  the  curriculum  and  the  discipline,  attain  high  scholar- 
ship.    But  in  general  standards  were  low.     In  any  case, 
from  a  young  man  in  society  no  great  learning  was  expected' 
If  he  had  gone  through  Oxford  or  Cambridge,  he  could  not 
avoid  picking  up  the  rudiments  of  Latin  and  Greek  and 
some  bits  of  information  about  ancient  Rome  and  a  few 
other  cities,  but  of  the  topography,  the  history,  the  govern- 
ment, the  art,  the  architecture,  the  social  conditions  of  the 
countries  he  intended  to  visit,  he  was  strangely,  and,  to  our 
thinking,  often  disgracefully,  ignorant.     The  lack  of  ade- 
quate preparation  for  appreciating  the  sights  of  the  Conti- 
nent left  the  ordinary  young  tourist  helpless  in  the  attempt 
to  get  more  than  a  casual  and  unsystematic  addition  to  his 
stock  of  knowledge.    To  one  who  knew  nothing  of  history 
or   architecture   the   remains   of   antiquity  meant   little: 
the  Forum  was  a  cow  pasture,  the  Circus  Maximus  a  brick 
heap,  the  Catacombs  ill-smelling  holes. 



TMK    Tcn^KlSr    AND    THK     iriXMl 

Yet.  although  fow  know  atiythiiij;  thorouj^hly,  every 
one  in  soeiety  was  expeeted  to  have  at  least  a  superfieial 
acquaintance  \\'ith  a  multitude  of  thinv^s.  Hasty  and  inat- 
tentive tourists  wen.^  doubtless  far  too  eomnion.  but  besides 
the  mob  of  dissipated  yoiui^:  spendthrifts  who  tloeked  to 
the  fasliionable  centers  for  mere  diversion  tluMv  wore  a 
i^ood  mimber  of  En,i;lishmen  who  tVi^arded  the  Cotitiuental 
tour  as  a  valuable  means  of  culture  at\d  protited  by  it  as 
they  best  could.  They  mapped  out  an  atnbitious*pro- 
i^rannne  and  were  kcvt^ly  curioxis  about  every thii\,v;.  There 
were  tourist  manuals  that  prescribed  an  astonishing;  ranj;e  of 
topics  on  which  the  traveler  was  supposed  to  infonii  himself 
iti  advaiKV  and  to  accmnulate  infonuation  as  he  journeyed. 
But  hervnn  lay  the  danj^er  that  the  relative  value  of  facts 
would  be  hardly  considered.  "It  is  indispensably  neces- 
sary." says  Rerchtold,  "for  a  youni;  getuleman  who  desires 
to  travel,  either  for  his  own  in^provement.  the  welfare  of 
mankind  in  goner.vl.  or  for  the  happiness  of  his  country  in 
particular,  to  lay  in  a  cvTtain  stock  of  fimdamental  knowl- 
edge, befon^  he  undertakes  the  ditVicult  task  of  travelling 
to  real  advantage."  ' 

"A  mere  connoisseur  and  \nrtuoso."  says  Andrews,  "is 
a  character  by  no  means  to  be  coveted  by  a  gentleman. 
They  who  aim  at  no  more  misimderstand  the  only  justifi- 
able purpose  for  which  men  of  rank,  education,  and  fortune 
ought  to  travel;  which  is  to  adorn  their  niinds  with  proper 
ideas,  of  men  and  things,  and  not  to  leani  the  trade  of  a 
collector  of  curiosities."  * 

Intending  travelers  were  ad\'ised  to  read  the  best  histo- 
ries and  accounts  of  each  country,  and  to  get  the  best  maps 
and  have  them  "properly  fitted  up  on  linen,  in  order  to 
render  them  convenient  for  the  pocket."  *  There  is.  indeed, 
no  end  to  the  well-meant  adNnce  tendered  the  tourist. 

Had  the  plan  of  such  books  been  actually  followed  to  the 
letter,  the  tourist  would  unquestionably  have  learned  some- 
thing. But  more  than  one  conscientious  young  fellow  gath- 
ered unrelated  facts  which  were  of  no  special  importance 
to  him,  but  which  he  industriously  assembled  because  he 



was  making  a  ^rand  tour  accorrling  to  rule  and  thus  con- 
forming in  one  more  partioilar  to  well-ordered  conventions.^ 

In  any  case,  it  was  of  prime  importance  that,  unless  the 
tourist  was  to  associate  wholly  with  his  fellow  countrymen, 
he  should  pick  up  some  acquaintance  with  the  languages  of 
the  Continent.  In  fact,  one  main  reason  for  making  the 
long  tour  was  that  he  might  get  at  least  a  smattering  of  one 
or  two  of  them.  The  two  most  in  favor  were  French  and 
Italian.  French,  in  particular,  was  an  essential  part  of  the 
preparation  of  any  young  man  of  the  upper  classes  for  a 
social  career  or  for  public  life.  With  French  the  tourist 
could  go  through  France,  Holland,  Germany,  Italy,  Russia, 
Sweden,  and  be  at  home  in  all  c-ultured  society .^  But  the 
stolid  Englishman  often  hesitated  to  use  his  French  or 
Italian  for  fear  of  committing  some  blunder  in  accent  or 
grammar.  Not  too  communicative  in  his  own  tongue,  he 
might  well  ask  himself  why  ho  should  go  out  of  his  way 
to  exchange  commonplaces  in  bad  French  or  Italian  with 
people  he  had  never  seen  before  and  was  unlikely  ever  to 
meet  again.  Instinctively,  therefore,  he  sought  out  his 
countrymen  in  preference  to  the  natives  of  the  country  he 

How  serious  a  hindrance  the  imperfect  mastery  of  for- 
eign tongues  was  to  anything  beyond  a  merely  superficial 
social  intercourse,  and  how  greatly  it  contributed  to  mutual 
misunderstandings,  we  need  hardly  remark.  The  poet 
Gray's  experience  at  Paris  was  typical  of  any  place  on  the 
Continent  where  there  were  many  English.  "We  had," 
writes  he,^  "at  first  arrival  an  inundation  of  visits  pouring 
in  upon  us,  for  all  the  English  are  acquainted  and  herd 
much  together,  and  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  disengage  one- 
self from  them,  so  that  one  sees  but  little  of  the  French 
themselves.  To  be  introduced  to  the  People  of  high  qual- 
ity, it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  be  Master  of  the  Language, 
for  it  is  not  to  be  imagined  that  they  will  take  pains  to 
understand  anybody,  or  to  correct  a  stranger's  blunders. 
Another  thing  is,  there  is  not  a  House  where  they  don't 
play,  nor  is  any  one  at  all  acceptable,  unless  they  do  so  too, 


THK    TCH'UlSr    AND    IHK     ir  rOK 

a  pn.'ifossod  Gamostor  Ivitv^  tho  most  ;ulvat\tai;oous  char- 
ftctor  a  Man  can  have  at  Taris.  The  Abbes  indeed  and 
twen  ot  leartut\i:  ate  a  IVople  of  easy  access  enough,  but 
few  l'!i\i;Ush  that  travel  liave  kt\o\Yled,i;e  ei\ous;li  to  take 
any  great  pleasuiv  in  this  Company,  at  least  our  present 
lot  of  travellei-s  have  not."  * 

In  our  day  many  English  travelers  speak  Freneli  and 
Gonnan.  and  sometimes  Italian  and  Si\itush.  with  tlueney 
and  tolerable  accuracy,  but  even  yet  the  axerage  Hngiish- 
man's  lack  of  facility  in  ai\y  foivign  tongue  is  proverbial. 
He  c:ui  with  ditVieulty  forget  himself,  and  he  unwillingly 
submits  to  the  humiliation  attendant  upon  learning  .i  new 
langnage.  In  the  eighteenth  ceiUury  n\any  young  ICnglish 
tourists  intei\ded  to  learn  no  language  but  their  own  —  aiui 
they  succeeded  admirably.  Prvnid-spirited  and  unwilling 
to  put  themselves  at  a  disadvantage  before  strangers,  they 
ignoivd  as  far  as  they  could  the  fact  that  tliey  were  living 
amidst  the  users  of  a  lat\guage  not  their  own.  On  the 
other  hand,  well-edncaled  tourists  commoiily  spoke  a  tol- 
erable imitation  of  Fivnch.  and  a  polished  man  of  .society 
like  George  Selwyn  was  as  nuich  at  home  in  l-'rcuch  as  in 
English.  "Voltain.^  declares."  says  Leslie  Stephen,  "that 
Bolingbroke  —  one  of  whose  e;irly  essays  was  published  in 
French  —  spoke  l-^vnch  with  unsur|">assed  energy  and  pre- 
cision. The  young  iioblctuan  on  his  grand  tour  was  easily 
admitted  with  his  tutor  to  Frctich  society,  and  it  is  enough 
to  mention  the  names  of  Walpole.  Hume,  and 
Adam  Smith,  to  suggest  the  importance  of  the ions 
whicli  sometimes  sprang  up."  * 

The  popularity  of  the  Italian  tour  induced  many  Eng- 
lishmen to  pick  up  some  knowledge  of  the  Italian  langriiage 
and  literature.  The  young  Earl  of  Carlisle,  writing  to 
Selw>Ti  from  Turin  in  1765,  says: '  *'I  am  learning  Spanish 
and  Itiilian.  and  read  a  i:rreat  deal."  *  And  three  years 
later,  writing  from  Rome,  he  says;  "I  read  Italian  pretty 
well:  speaking  I  have  little  occasion  for.  I  think  I  am  a 
good  deal  improved  in  my  French."  * 

Of  Cluirles  James  Fox  \ve  an^  told:  He  "was  an  excellent 


THE   70(JHIS'J    AND   TllK    JC/JOK 

Italian  fx;holar,  an^l  v/roUt  and  r/,rr/':r:(:']  in  i.h';  Ffrnch 
hiriyun'/f:  fxlrnf/'X  wilh  a';  mij'';h  '  '       vrof/;  and  c/n- 

Vf;rv,f1  in  hh  own."  '     Hero  an']  -iyVrhru'ir],  Ijko 

Chute,  who  Bfxmt  Bcvcn  years  in  Italy,  mastered  tho  lan- 
j?uaj;je,*  But  few  had  eithoT  the  time  or  the  indination  t.o 
do  «o  much.  Ih/nu^t  Wali>oIe  ha^l  a  1/Jerable  {urnUvxrhy 
v/if,}i  Italian,  and  a  quaHxT  of  a  century  after  his  Italian 
trij;  he  c/)T)yraiu]rxU:v.  him?x;lf  in  a  letU.-r  t^j  Mann:  "I  wa:: 
pleased  the  other  nij^ht  at  the  llnhart  e^/medy  V;  find  I  had 
lost  so  little  of  my  Italian  ar;  t/>  undoTntand  it  better  than 
the  French  scenes."  "  JJut  he  ha/1  no  jTcat  rna';f/.'ry  of  it. 
He  tried  in  /750  to  writ^^  a  letfx-r  f/.»  Dr.  O^cchi,  ?j/;knov/If;dj;- 
in^^  the  joft  of  his  BathK  of  Pisa,  but  finally  j^ave  up  the 
attempt  and  asked  Mann  t/;  (txjrrfsHfi  thankr;  for  him.^ 
Limited  ak/;  was  Walpole's  mafit<'.Ty  of  Fre-rjch/'  alth'^/uj^h 
he  had  anouyh  for  all  prar;tical  jmrpf/A-/^. 

All  things  considered,  the  a^yjuaintancf;  of  the  rno^^t  in- 
tclhy/^ni  ILnyVvih  tourists  with  French  and  Italian  v/ar;  very 
rcr'-jjectable.  But  with  the  rarest  cxcajAvm':,  one  of  v/hom 
was  CarU;ret,  who  had  traveled  widely  in  Gc-rrnany,  Enj^- 
lishmen  in  the  ei;^hteenth  cf;ntury  were  e-ntirely  hywivixrii 
of  German.  MnyVv.h  UmrhUi  r/^](]<jm  knev/  m'^^re  than  a 
phrar/i  or  tv/o  of  the  lanynayc.  Even  a  rtwlmy^  knowled^^e 
of  German  was  a  very  rare  acc.rmplirvhment  nmr/ny  Eny- 
Hshmen.  Trained  r;cholar:;  like  Hume,  (ji}Ajf/n,  Kobert:-xjn, 
and  Parr  v/ere  unable  t^;  u.%  Gcrrrrau  books.  H^/race  Wal- 
pole's  acquaintance  with  German  enabled  him  as  late  as 
1788  to  say  no  more  than  "  I  am  t^Jd  it  i;;  a  fine  lanjMjaj^e."  " 
"But  evcm  in  German  courts,"  says  I>eslie  SV;phen,  "the 
travellers  knew  no  German,  and  the  home-;-:tayinj^  British 
author  rem.ained  in  absolute  and  content/;d  ryriorancj-."  "> 
We  have,  then,  the  surprisin^^  fact  that,  'ahhfAiyh  En^dand 
durin;^  the  yrcsiUsr  part  of  the  ei^^htr^enth  ce-ntury  v;as  ruled 
by  the  Hour^i  of  Hanove-r  and  thu:;  hrouyhi  mUj  the  clorx;st 
political  relations  with  Germany,  En^dishmen  were  ii\m<j'rX 
unt/juchcd  by  German  culture  until  after  the  French  Rev- 
olution. Indeed,  lon;^  after  German  had  v;on  a  fixed  place 
in  English  education  it  pre:;ented  peculiar  difficulties  to 



the  ordinary  Enj::lish  intclHj^cncc.  Evcmi  Lord  Houj^hton, 
whoso  advantav;os  were  excoptional.  \\Totc  ns  late  as  1S71 
to  his  sou:  "It  is  as  well  that  you  should  boi^n  that  crack- 
jaw  Gonuan  at  school,  as  I  suspect  the  dithculty  I  have  had 
in  mastorin;^  it  (though  I  went  to  the  University  of  Bonn 
after  leaviui;  Canibriih^e)  conies  from  my  never  havinj:: 
boon  well  p-ounded  in  its  detestable  j^rammar  and  absurd 
eoust ructions."  *  And  Lord  Hou,i::hton's  experience  was 
typical.  Maldns:  the  larj^est  allowance  we  can  for  indiviTlual 
mastery  of  foreij^i  tonj^n^ies  by  eighteenth-century  Eiii^lish- 
men.  we  may  suspect  that,  as  is  yet  the  case,  multitudes 
returned  home  froin  their  travels  xN-ith  hardly  cnouj^h  of 
any  lanj::uai::e  besides  their  own  to  enable  them  to  order  a 
dinner  or  to  pay  for  it  without  being  Ileeced. 


As  already  observed,  the  ostensible  purpose  of  much  of 
the  travel  on  the  Continent  was  educational.  And  this 
purpose  played  so  large  a  part  in  shaping  most  of  the  tours 
that  we  nnist  consider  in  some  detail  the  favorite  eighteenth- 
century  plan  of  sending  out  a  young  man  to  travel  for  a 
few  years  with  a  tutor  from  whom  he  was  supposed  to  re- 
ceive instniction.  This  practice  was  not  new,  nor  was  it 
peculiar  to  England,  but  had  long  been  in  vogue  among 
wealthy  families  on  the  Continent.  A  description  of  the 
system  as  it  should  be  at  its  best  appears  in  Francesco 
Soave's  moral  tale,  "  II  contc  d'Orengc."  In  this  the  author 
recounts  how  a  nobleman's  son,  who  had  been  reared  in  an 
exemplary  way.  set  out  on  his  travels  at  the  age  of  twenty, 
under  the  direction  of  a  \nse  governor.  He  was  proN-ided 
with  all  the  recommendations  that  were  necessary,  and 
his  tour  included  Italy  and  the  then  chief  countries  of 
Europe.  Accompanied  by  his  instructor  he  jounieyed  from 
one  point  to  another,  became  familiar  \%'ith  various  places, 
with  their  position  and  appearance,  with  the  natural  prod- 
ucts of  each  country,  with  the  most  precious  works  of  art, 
with  the  most  reuo^^^led  men  of  letters  and  artists  of  every 



country,  and  with  the  constitutions,  the  laws,  the  usa^^cs, 
and  the  morals  of  the  various  nations.  In  this  improvinj^ 
fashion  he  spent  two  years. 

The  youn;^  Enj^lishmcn  who  made  the  ;:^rand  tour  doubt- 
less occasionally  measured  up  to  this  hi^h  ideal,  thou^^h  in 
general  the  net  result  was  not  so  much  a  thorough  training 
in  any  one  thing  as  a  smattering  of  many,  and  a  merely 
superficial  polish.  But  in  any  case,  this  system  of  training 
was  well  established.^ 

In  wealthy  English  families  of  the  seventeenth  and  eight- 
eenth centuries  the  education  of  young  men  was  largely  in 
the  hands  of  private  tutors.  A  few  great  public  schools, 
like  Eton  and  Winchester  and  Westminster,  were  famous, 
but  for  a  variety  of  reasons  many  parents  preferred  to  keep 
their  sons  under  their  own  eyes  and  engaged  private  teachers 
for  home  training.  And  even  after  a  youth  had  gone 
through  a  public  school  and  the  university,  the  tutor  was 
felt  to  be  the  most  suitable  companion  for  the  Continental 
tour,  the  importance  of  which  was  taken  for  granted.  But, 
evidently,  much  would  depend  upon  the  character  of  the 
tutor.  A  high-minded,  well-balanced  scholar  might  be  of 
inestimable  service  to  a  youth  eager  to  improve  his  oppor- 
tunities. But  the  number  of  well-equipped  tutors  must  have 
been  relatively  small.  The  low  e?jb  to  which  education  had 
sunk  at  Cambridge  and  Oxford  had  brought  it  about  that 
only  an  occasional  scholar  was  even  moderately  competent 
to  direct  the  w^rk  of  his  pupil,  to  say  nothing  of  serving  as 
a  guide  on  the  Continent.  "Intelligent  foreigners  are  not 
a  little  surprised,  when  they  behold  our  young  gentlemen 
sent  abroad  in  the  company  of  persons  doubtless  of  good 
character,  hnt  not  unfrequcntly  as  new  to  the  scenes  they 
experience  as  the  very  pupils  entrusted  to  their  care.  I  will 
make  no  comment  upon  such  a  text."  ^  But  the  tutor  was 
expected  to  be,  not  merely  a  preceptor,  but  a  guide,  coun- 
selor, and  friend.  "He  should  be,"  says  Vicesimus  Knox, 
"a  grave,  respectable  man  of  a  mature  age.  A  very  young 
man,  or  a  man  of  levity,  however  great  his  merit,  learning, 
or  ingenuity,  will  not  be  proper,  because  he  will  not  have 


riiK  Touiusr  AND  riiE  Til  roil 

thnt  natural  niilhonty  nnd  that  pori^onnl  cUcfnity.  whtch 
coiiittvuul  nttontioti  ntui  obodiomv.  A  i^r.ivo  ami  i;;ixh1 
nvAu  will  watch  ovov  ihc  nxovaU  and  the  reHi;ion  of  his  pupil; 
both  which,  ncconlinv;  [o  the  pi\\^ct\t  niodcv^  of  conductinvi 
travel,  arc  cointuiMily  shakct\  from  the  basis,  aiul  levelled 
with  tlie  dust,  before  the  etui  of  the  percv^rination.  In 
their  place  sticcccd  tniivcrsal  vS«.vpticistn  ami  unboutidcil 
Hbcrtinistn."  '  Now  at\d  then,  in  view  of  the  steady  de- 
mand for  tutors  of  hiy^h  character  and  ability,  the  i*ical 
was  reali::cd.  Some  men  i">f  tval  ctniiuMicc  and  many  o\' 
respectable  attaitiments  were  secuu\l  avS  traveling;  tutors. 
Scholars  of  this  sort  wore  far  from  bein>i  the  shallow  dolts 
often  satirised  by  critics  of  the  v^ratid  tour.  No  less  a  man 
thaii  John  Locke  spent  a  year  in  Paris  with  an  Kns^lish 
pupil,  and  evet\  set  out  wltli  him  for  Rome,  thouj^h  the 
prudctit  philosopher  did  not  \enture  to  cross  the  Alps  in 
the  late  autumi\.  C^nly  a  few  years  earlier  the  eminent 
naturalist  Jolu\  Ray  had  "declit\ed.  owinj;  to  poor  health, 
an  otTcr  to  travel  abroad  with  tluw  youuj;  noblemen."' 
The  wcll-ktunvt^  Frat\cis  Misson.  whose  i;uide-book  served 
two  get\crations  of  travelers  it\  Italy,  jovirneycd  in  i(iS;  and 
T088  acnxss  Kun'»pc  to  Italy  with  the  j^randson  of  the  tirst 
Duke  of  Ormonde.  Johi\  Ihvval.  who  had  more  than  one 
tilt  with  Pope  and  was  not  altoi;ether  above  criticism,  trav- 
eled on  the  ContituMU  with  Georiic.  Lord  Viscount  Malpas. 
Whatever  may  be  said  of  ^^reva.l  on  other  j^rounds,  he  was 
a  thoroui^hly  competent  traveling  tutor.  More  famous  is 
Home  Tooke.  who  made  two  educational  tom's  on  the  Con- 
tiT\ent.  each  tiu\e  u\  chari^e  of  a  pupil.  He  represented  a 
type  of  it\structor  not  seldon\  to  be  met  at  Paris  atid  other 
ST^at  centers,  and  in  his  gay  suits  of  blue  and  silver  and 
scariet  and  silver,  to  say  nothing  of  other  colors,  he  was  as 
ut\clerical  in  appearance  as  clothing  amid  make  him. 

The  average  tutor  was.  indeed,  a  dull-witted,  mediocre 
scholar,  with  little  itiiluence  over  his  pupil.  He  was  com- 
mv^t^ly  not  over-ambitious,  or  if  he  was.  he  did  not  con- 
tinue as  tutor.  Wretchedly  paid,  as  was  too  often  the  case, 
and  hourly  humiliated  by  tiie  insubordination  of  the  young 

1  JO 

TIIK    'ITMnUST    AM)    'UIK    'ir;']r)}>» 

cijb  in  hi:;  char;y;,  ho  founfl  hi:*  lot  Iho  rcvor-/;  of  cnviahk;, 
and  ho  rardy  harl  tho  ability  Uj  riiic  above  it.  Naturally 
onmjj'h,  the  livarayG  iuU)r,  like  the  avcra;?c  tourist,  has 
vanished  v/ithoiit  leavinj^  a  traa;,  even  in  that  ^^rcat  necrol- 
ogy, the  "Die-tionary  oi  National  Bio^^raphy," 

In  mr/^-t  ai'M-M  the  tuUjrn  of  J^ln^dinh  birth  v/ere  of  rer,peet- 
able  fanriilies,  thr^J^^h  rarely,  if  ever,  of  the  !yx;ia]  i-aandinj^ 
of  theHr  \)rot6y&.i.  A:;  already  jjointcd  out,  the  touri:;t:!  of 
the  fin^t  half  of  the  century  belon^^erl  mainly  to  the  ranks 
of  the  y(:r]iry  or  the  nobility.  A;;  the  cymtury  pro{^re<;?-/;d 
there  wan  an  increaiiin^^  fjrr^portion  of  '.■/ju::  of  v/ealthy 
trader;mcTi  who  made  the  j^rand  tour,  cuy/.r]-/  copyinj^  the 
fr>llie:-;  and  the  vic<';;j  of  younj^  noblemen  and  ::tnvinj^  by 
their  in;-xjlent  oritcntation  of  riehen  to  par/-;  for  ycuUcmen 
to  the  manner  born.  Youn^^  masters  of  this  type,  uneasily 
adju';tinj^  them';elveM  to  their  !;odal  po';ition,  v/ere  the  least 
tractable  of  pupil;:.  With  no  family  traditions  of  culture, 
they  commonly  trcatcfl  with  ajntcmpt  the  well-meant 
efforts  of  the  tutor  to  jje-rforrn  the  < MWy-.tXioxi';  of  hi;;  contract. 
If  he  wa;;  a  man  of  rf:rinemo'nt  and  of  a^nr-icientiou;-;  char- 
arjter,  he  wa;>  placed  in  a  po;;ition  of  peculiar  c-mbarrass- 
ment.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  v/a;;  not  too  scTUpukjus, 
and  connived  at  the  foliie:;  of  hi;:  pupil,  or  even  abettxjd 
them,  the  youn^  fellow  wa;;  ofU^n  in  a  wor:-;c  state  than  if 
he  had  ventured  abroad  alr^ne.  Theoretically,  nothing 
could  be  better  than  to  put  the  entire  time  of  a  compeU^nt 
teacher  at  the  service  of  a  pupil.  Men  like  Ix-ibnitz,  L/Jcke, 
and  Rou;-:;:eau  recommended  education  under  a  private 
instructor  rather  than  that  obtained  in  the  r/;hool:i.  If  all 
tutors  had  measured  up  to  the  standard;:  ;;et  by  thc^xj  ;(rcat 
thinker;;,  therr:  could  have  been  little  room  for  critici;:m. 
But  nf;t  neldom  the  En;di;:h  tutor  was  selected  bccau;x;  of 
his  familiarity,  real  or  f:uj;po;x;d,  with  the  languaj.^es  of  the 
Continent,  thouj'h  of  the;:c  he  had  perhaps  only  the  super- 
fjc-ial  knowledge  posfX;;;::ed  by  a  modern  hotel  waiU;r  —  a 
few  phrases,  and  nothing  more.  If  he  was  a  Frenchman  or 
a  Sv/iss,  he  was  too  often  unacquainted  with  Enpdi;>h  char- 
acter and  social  usages,  and  entirely  unable  to  control  the 



active  young  animal  of  whom  he  had  rashly  assimied  the 
charge.  We  rarely  hear  complaints  that  a  tutor  deliber- 
ately led  his  pupil  astray,  but  he  commonly  drove  with  a 
very  loose  rein.  Horace  Walpole  had  no  high  opinion  of 
tutors  as  a  class,  nor,  for  that  matter,  of  the  troops  of  trav- 
eling boj's  who  invaded  the  galleries  of  Florence  and  flung 
their  money  about  the  streets  of  Rome.  Writing  to  Horace 
Mann  he  says:  "The  absurdities  which  English  travelling 
boys  are  capable  of,  and  likely  to  act  or  conceive,  always 
gave  me  apprehension  of  your  meeting  \nth.  disagreeable 
scenes  —  and  then  there  is  another  animal  still  more  absurd 
than  Florentine  men  or  English  boys,  and  that  is,  travelling 
governors,  who  are  mischievous  into  the  bargain,  and  whose 
pride  is  always  hurt  because  they  are  sure  of  its  never 
being  indulged.  They  will  not  leave  the  world,  because 
they  are  sent  to  teach  it.  and  as  they  come  far  the  more 
ignorant  of  it  than  their  pupils,  take  care  to  return  with 
more  prejudices,  and  as  much  care  to  instill  all  theirs  into 
their  pupils."  ^  Similar  flings  abound  in  his  later  letters. 
In  1754  he  writes  to  Mann:  "I  am  glad  3'ou  have  got  my 
Lord  of  Cork.  He  is,  I  know,  a  very  worthy  man,  and 
though  not  a  bright  man,  nor  a  man  of  the  world,  much 
less  a  good  author,  yet  it  must  be  comfortable  to  you  now 
and  then  to  see  something  besides  travelling  children, 
booby  governors,  and  abandoned  women  of  quality."  ^ 
Before  going  to  Paris,  in  1765,  he  wrote  to  George  Montagu: 
"Though  they  (the  Richmonds)  are  in  a  manner  my  chil- 
dren, I  do  not  intend  to  adopt  the  rest  of  my  countrymen ; 
nor,  when  I  quit  the  best  company  here,  to  live  in  the  worst 
there;  such  are  young  travelling  boys,  and.  what  is  still 
worse,  old  travelling  boys,  governors."  '  And  again  in 
176S  he  remarks  in  a  letter  to  Mann:  "We  expect  our 
cousin  and  brother  of  Denmark  next  week ;  —  since  he  ^^411 
travel,  I  hope  he  ^\411  improve:  I  doubt  there  is  room  for 
it.  He  is  much,  I  believe,  of  the  stamp  of  many  youths 
we  have  sent  you;  but  with  so  much  a  better  chance,  that 
he  has  not  a  travelling  tutor  to  make  him  more  absurd 
than  he  would  be  of  himself."  * 



Nominally,  the  tutor  was  responsible  for  regular  hours  of 
teaching,  when  his  pupils  were  making  a  stay  of  any  length 
in  a  place,  but  how  difficult  or  impossible  instruction  other 
than  mere  passing  comment  must  have  been  while  on  the 
road  the  modern  traveler  can  appreciate.  At  best,  the  re- 
straints of  parental  discipline  were  lacking. 

Among  the  swarms  of  English  tourists  in  France  and 
Italy,  young  men  of  character  and  ability  were  not  lacking, 
but  far  too  many  of  those  who  passed  three  years  on  the 
Continent  returned  little  wiser  than  when  they  first  crossed 
the  Channel.  With  a  pupil  of  the  latter  type,  inclined  to 
be  headstrong  and  wayward,  a  conscientious  tutor  of  some 
parts  must  at  times  have  found  his  position  the  reverse  of 
agreeable.^  He  was  bound  to  participate  to  some  extent 
in  the  amusements  of  his  charge  or  see  the  young  fellow 
pass  out  of  his  control.  But  if  the  pupil's  interests  were 
mainly  centered  in  drinking  and  gaming  and  association 
with  loose  women,  the  situation  was  difficult  indeed.  A 
more  attractive  position  was  that  held  by  the  witty  Dr. 
John  Moore,  who  for  six  years  went  up  and  down  the  Con- 
tinent as  medical  attendant  and  companion  to  the  wealthy 
young  Duke  of  Hamilton.  But  such  opportunities  were 
necessarily  exceptional. 

Gentlemen  who  could  afford  the  expense  seldom  venttired 
abroad  without  a  carefully  selected  traveling  servant,  who 
stood,  of  course,  lower  in  the  social  scale  than  the  tutor. 
Such  a  servant  was  nevertheless  expected  to  be  tolerably 
educated  and  to  make  himself  useful  in  all  possible  ways. 
Berchtold's  enumeration  of  the  accomplishments  that  he 
should  possess  and  his  suggestion  of  a  suitable  reward  for 
faithful  service  throw  some  light  on  the  conditions  of  eight- 
eenth-century travel:  "A  servant  selected  to  accompany  a 
gentleman  on  his  travels  should  be  conversant  with  the 
French  language; '  write  a  legible  and  quick  hand,  in  order 
to  be  able  to  copy  whatever  is  laid  before  him :  know  a  little 
of  surgery,  and  to  bleed  well  in  case  his  master  should  meet 
with  an  accident  where  no  chirurgical  assistance  is  to  be 
expected.     Gentlemen  should  endeavour  to  attach  such 



useful  servants  to  their  persons,  by  showing;  the  same  care 
as  a  father  has  for  a  child,  aj\d  promise  him  a  settlement 
for  life  on  their  return."  * 


Generalization  on  national  characteristics  is  tcmptins:, 
but  ce>mmonly  somewhat  hairardous.  Vet  perhaps  without 
irreat  risk  of  error  we  may  put  together  a  few  features  Miat 
mark  most  of  the  Eni^lish  travelers  of  the  eii^hteenth  cen- 
tury in  their  attitude  toward  the  Continent.  Beyond  all 
question  the  averag:e  English  tourist  was  in  ever)'  sense  in- 
competent to  pass  judi^ment  upon  the  people  of  the  Con- 
tinent. He  seldom  knew  them  well  enough  to  be  entitled 
to  an  independent  opinion,  and  he  was  compelled  to  piece 
out  his  scanty  experience  by  hearsay  and  by  reading. 
Too  commonly  he  made  the  mistake  of  grouping  the  people 
of  an  entire  country  under  one  sweeping  category.  And 
rarely  did  he  realize  the  significance  of  the  things  that  he 
saw.  The  sturdy  belief  of  the  average  low-class  Englishman 
tliat  any  foreigner  was  immeasurably  his  inferior  was 
widespread  throughout  the  eighteenth  century.  English 
laboa"'rs  often  took  delight  in  hooting  and  stoning  a  for- 
eigner, merely  because  he  was  foreign.^  The  upper  classes 
were,  at  least  in  the  greater  centers  of  population,  to  some 
extent  free  from  tliis  prejudice  and  brutahty.  Yet  dislike 
of  foreigners  and  contempt  for  their  ways  were  tirmly 
rooted  in  the  minds  of  most  English  tradesmen  and  of 
ordinary  country  squires.  Some  t>'pes  of  English  travelers, 
indeed,  were  in  the  habit  of  admiring  everything  foreign 
above  anything  Englisli.  But,  all  in  all,  perhaps  the  most 
striking  characteristic  of  the  ordinary  nm  of  English  trav- 
elers was  their  insularity  and  their  unreadiness  to  admit 
the  excellence  of  anything  that  was  unfamiliar.^  Even  in 
our  time  the  discriminating  Walter  Bagehot  has  observed 
tliat  there  is  nothing  that  the  average  Englishman  dreads 
so  mucli  as  the  pain  of  a  new  idea.  This  trait  was  far  more 
marked  a  centiu-y  and  a  half  ago  and  appeared  at  every 



turn.  The  En^^Hsh  carried  their  nationality  everywhere 
with  them;  and  their  habits  and  standards  were  in  sharp 
contrast  with  those  of  the  Continent.  The  En^dishman 
could  not  be  induced  to  forj^o  the  pleasure  of  his  tour, 
which  would  give  him  opportunity  to  see  famous  buildings 
and  statues  and  pictures,  but  he  was  forever  vaunting  the 
superiority  of  his  native  land  and  di:;playing  his  contempt 
for  the  people  who  had  the  mifiortune  to  be  born  else- 

What  Englishmen  commonly  thought  of  themselves  and 
what  foreigners  thought  of  them  were  two  very  different 
things,  though  nothing  is  more  surprising  than  the  popu- 
larity on  the  Continent  of  almost  everything  English  in 
the  last  third  of  the  century,  'i'he  self-satisfaction  of  the 
English  is  admirably  illustrated  in  the  reflections  of  the 
genial  Earl  of  Cork  and  Orrery,  which  might  add  to  an 
Englishman's  peace  of  mind  but  would  hardly  be  equally 
pleasing  to  strangers:  "The  English  are  a  happy  fjeople,  if 
they  were  truly  conscious,  or  could  in  any  degree  convince 
themselves,  of  their  own  felicity.  They  are  the  Jortunati 
nimium.  Let  them  travel  abroad,  not  to  see  fashions,  but 
states,  not  to  taste  different  wines,  but  different  govern- 
ments; not  to  compare  laces  and  velvets,  but  laws  and 
politics.  They  will  then  return  home  perfectly  convinced 
that  England  is  possessed  of  more  freedom,  justice,  and 
happiness,  than  any  other  nation  under  heaven."  * 

In  the  same  vein  Eustace  remarks  a  generation  later: 
"The  English  nation,  much  to  its  credit,  differs  in  this  re- 
spect (i.  e.,  in  vilifying  human  nature]  as  indeed  in  many 
others,  very  widely  from  its  rival  neighbors,  and  is  united 
with  the  wise,  the  good,  the  great  of  all  ages  and  countries 
in  a  glorious  confederacy  to  support  the  dignity  and  the 
grandeur  of  our  common  nature."  ^ 

The  Englishman's  attitude  toward  the  Continent  was 
often  strangely  contradictory.  "There  arc  instances," 
says  Dr.  Moore,  "of  Englishmen,  who,  while  on  their  trav- 
els, shock  foreigners  by  an  ostentatious  preference  of 
England  to  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  ridicule  the  man- 



ncrs,  ctisloms,  and  opinions  of  every  other  nation;  yet  on 
their  return  to  their  own  country,  imnieiliately  assume  for- 
eii::n  manners,  and  continue  during  the  remainder  of  their 
Hves  to  express  the  hij^hest  contem]")t  for  everythinj:;  that 
is  Enghsh."  '  Nor  was  this  result  altogether  surj-irising. 
Trained  from  his  earliest  youth  to  regard  everything  English 
as  best,  the  untraveled  Englishman  on  going  abroad  found 
to  his  surprise  people  who  countetl  their  own  ways  as  good 
as  his,  who  ate  palatable  food  unlike  his  own,  and  in  dscss, 
manners,  customs,  and  ideals  were  of  a  different  type.  And 
in  the  end  he  was  converted  in  spite  of  himself. 

Fortunately,  an  occasional  Englishman  was  sufficiently 
open-minded  to  confess  that  his  countrjnnen  were  not 
entirely  above  criticism.-  "English  are  generally  the  most 
extraordinary  persons  that  we  meet  with,  even  out  of  Eng- 
land," writes  Horace  Walpole  to  Conway.'  And  years 
later,  in  a  letter  to  Mann,  he  remarks,  "What  must  Europe 
think  of  us  from  our  travellers,  and  from  our  own  accounts 
of  ourselves?"*  Lady  Mary  MontagTi  had  lived  enough 
abroad  to  judge  her  countr>nnen  from  the  Continental 
point  of  vnew,  and  she  regarded  a  good  proportion  of  the 
English  tourists  as  no  great  credit  to  their  native  land. 
Writing  from  Venice  to  Lady  Pomfret,^  she  says  that  she 
is  impatient  to  hear  good  sense  pronounced  in  her  native 
tongue;  "ha\ang  only  heard  my  language  out  of  the 
mouths  of  boys  and  governors  for  these  five  months.  Here 
are  inundations  of  them  broke  in  upon  us  this  carnival,  and 
my  apartment  must  be  their  refuge;  the  greater  part  of 
them  ha\4ng  kept  an  in\4olable  fidelity  to  the  languages 
their  nurses  taught  them.  Their  whole  business  abroad 
(as  far  as  I  can  perceive)  being  to  buy  new  cloaths,  in  which 
they  shine  in  some  obscure  coffee-house,  where  they  are 
sure  of  meeting  only  one  another;  and  after  the  important 
conquest  of  some  waiting  gentlewoman  of  an  opera  Queen, 
who  perhaps  they  remember  as  long  as  they  live,  return  to 
England  excellent  judges  of  men  and  manners.  I  find  tlie 
spirit  of  patriotism  so  strong  in  me  every  time  I  see  them, 
that  I  look  on  them  as  the  greatest  blockheads  in  nature; 



and,  to  say  truth,  the  compound  of  boo?jy  and  petit-mattre 
makes  up  a  very  odd  sort  of  animal."  ' 

Extraordinary  as  English  tourists  often  appeared  to  their 
own  countrymen,  they  seemed  still  more  so  to  foreigners, 
to  whom  they  were  a  perpetual  puzzle.  England  was  no- 
table all  over  Europe  for  producing  odd  types  of  travelers  — 
men  who  were  counted  peculiar  even  at  home,  and  whose 
strongly  marked  idiosyncrasies  naturally  made  a  lasting 
impression  upon  the  Continent.  The  composite  portrait 
often  drawn  as  representing  the  typical  Englishman  is 
doubtless  inaccurate  as  picturing  any  individual  traveler, 
but  it  is,  on  the  whole,  more  true  than  false,  and  would 
never  have  been  suggested  by  the  representatives  of  any 
other  nation. 

As  might  have  been  expected,  the  Englishman  was  in 
general  not  an  easy  traveler.  To  difficulties  that  no  one 
could  escape  he  added  others  by  his  lack  of  adaptability  to 
unfamiliar  conditions.  Notwithstanding  the  ostentatious 
profusion  of  most  wealthy  tourists,  there  were  many  tour- 
ists of  the  type  of  Dr.  Smollett,  exacting  and  yet  penurious, 
who  were  in  hot  water  from  the  day  they  landed  on  the  Con- 
tinent until  they  were  safely  back  in  England.  Such 
travelers,  wherever  they  went,  loudly  voiced  their  dis- 
content with  the  country  and  the  people,  and  commonly 
found  no  lack  of  material  for  criticism.  The  Englishman  at 
home  was  so  accustomed  to  speak  plainly  that  he  could  not 
be  expected  to  bridle  his  tongue  while  abroad.  Fortu- 
nately for  him,  most  of  his  criticism  of  governments  and  of 
restrictive  regulations  of  various  sorts  was  imparted  to  his 
fellow  countrymen  in  their  native  tongue  and  was  unin- 
telligible to  any  one  besides  them.  "You  EngHsh,"  re- 
marks Cogan,  "are  supposed  to  think,  but  you  are  univer- 
sally accused  of  keeping  all  your  thoughts  to  yourselves! 
—  A  Frenchman  will  touch  upon  all  the  affairs  of  every 
court  in  Europe,  and  all  the  fashions  in  each  court,  before 
an  Englishman  can  resolve  to  enquire  what  is  the  news  of 
the  day."  ^  In  general  an  English  traveler  presented  his 
least  attractive  side  to  strangers.    He  felt  it  hardly  worth 


THE    TOlIlllSr    AND    THE   TUTOll 

whilo  to  oxort  hitnsolf  for  pooplo  ho  niii;lit  tiovor  moot  ;i.i;aln. 
and  with  whom  l\o  would  not  oonoorii  himsoh'  it'  ho  woro  to 
meet  thorn.  It  is  nol  surprising;,  thoroforo,  that  t"oroi>;nors 
who  saw^  only  tho  most  unlovoly  sidos  o(  luij^lish  charaotor 
shoulil  havo  boon  rathor  ropollod  than  attraotod.  But  not 
infroquontly  tho  vory  man  who  is  chilly  toward  strani^ors  is 
tho  truost  of  frionds.  llo  profors  a  fow  tnistod  ovuitlilants 
to  any  mnnbor  c^f  casual  acquaint anoos.  Ho  has  no\-or 
admitted  any  one  [o  his  inner  oirolo  without  tho  most  ojiro- 
ful  scrutiny,  and  for  this  ho  lacks  i^pportunity  when  ho 
casually  moots  a  strani;cr.  Gcttini;  vmi  easily  with  people 
that  in\o  chances  to  moot  is  an  art  that  tho  l-'rcnch  havo 
carried  to  ]HM-t"ection.  The  Eni;lishman  of  the  ei.i;hteentli 
century  commonly  lacked  the  tlcKibility  and  the  solf-fi^r- 
gctfulness  nooessary  (ov  sueh  oasual  intoroourse,  partiou- 
larly  if  he  had  to  use  a  lani;uav;o  not  his  own  and  thus  ran 
the  risk  of  making  himself  ridieulous.  In  genora.l  intoUi- 
i^otioo.  or  at  least  in  hard  conmion  sense,  and  partieularly  in 
self-possession,  Eni;lishmen  compared  favorably  with  any 
travelers  on  tho  Continent.  lUit  as  a  rule  they  could  enter 
but  siiperticially  into  the  spirit  of  forcii^n  life. 

Bearing:;  all  this  in  mind  we  may  consider  for  a  moment 
lilui^lishmcn's  interest  in  society  abroad  and  the  extent  to 
which  they  minj^led  with  it.  We  must  remember  that  tho 
ordinary  traveler  was  under  a  s;ood  deal  of  disadvantage 
in  attempting  to  make  more  than  a  passing  acquaintance 
with  the  people  of  the  Continent.  Commonly  remaining 
in  one  place  for  oi\ly  a  limited  time,  he  coxild  not  easily 
escape  the  hurried  feeling  that  most  travelers  have  in  a 
country  full  of  interesting  sights.  In  so  far  as  he  troubled 
himself  NN-ith  society  he  naturally  consorted  with  the  upper 
classes,'  for  whom  weR">  reserved  most  of  the  pleasures  that 
made  life  before  the  Revolution  worth  li\-ing. 

Polite  society  throughout  Europe  a  century  and  a  half 
ago  was  in  a  sense  a  great  inteniational  social  club.  Any 
one  of  recognized  rank  in  one  country  had  no  dilhculty  in 
being  admitted  to  society  in  another.  France  set  the 
standard  of  maimers  for  all  Europe,  and  \'ersailles  served 


as  a  m(,<]d  for  scores  of  litUc  German  and  Italian  courts. 
To  a  crowrJcd  French  salon  he  could  find  entrance,  alon^' 
with  everybody  else  of  unquestioned  social  standin^^.  and 
also  to  a  Roman  conversazione.^    But  at  a  time  when  rank 
counted  for  much  in  Europe,  letters  of  introduction  were 
almost  a  necessity  for  the  traveler.    Without  such  help  he 
mi^^ht  see  the  main  si^^hts,  and  by  the  richness  of  his  dress 
and  his  equipage  he  could  be  sure  of  deference  in  many 
quarters,  but  for  admission  to  society  he  must  have  cre- 
dentials.    Then  all  was  easy.     "A  sin^de  letter  of  intro- 
ductif.n,"  says  Nugent,  "is  sufTicicnt  to  procure  a  person 
an  agreeable  reception  among  the  Germans,   which  can 
hardly  be  said  of  the  inhabitants  of  any  other  country. 
Their  civility  goes  so  far  as  to  introduce  a  stranger  directly 
into  their  societies  or  assemblies."  «    And  as  for  Italy,  Bar- 
etti  advises  the  tourist:  "On  your  reaching  the  first  town  in 
Italy,  whether  it  be  Turin,  Genoa,  or  any  other,  endeavor  to 
obtain  as  many  letters  of  recommendation  from  the  na- 
tives as  you  can,  to  take  along  with  you  as  you  advance 
further  into  the  country.    The  nobility  of  every  place,  and, 
above  all,  the  learned,  will  be  pleased  to  give  you  such 
letters;   and  the  people  to  whom  you  will  be  thus  recom- 
mended, will  still  direct  you  to  others.  .  .  .  [They  may 
perhaps]  procure  you  a  good  lodging  where  the  inn  is  not 
to  your  liking,  .  .  .  tell  you  the  true  price  of  things  that 
you  may  not  be  cheated,"  etc.^' 

Walpole  repeatedly  sends  to  Horace  Mann  the  names  of 
English  tourists  who  expect  to  visit  Florence,  recommend- 
ing now  "Mr.  Hobart,"  who  "proposes  passing  a  little 
time  at  Florence,  which  I  am  sure  you  will  endeavour  to 
make  as  agreeable  to  him  as  pos.sible"; «  now  "Mr.  vStan- 
ley,  one  of  the  Lords  of  the  Admiralty"; «  now  "the 
Duke  of  Newcastle's  eldest  son,  Lord  Lincoln,"  who  "is 
going  to  Rome";"  now  "a  young  painter  who  is  going  to 
study  at  Rome."  ^  To  these  might  be  added  numerous 
others.  8  Much  of  the  time  of  an  ambassador  during  the 
tourist  season  must  have  been  consumed  in  attending  to 
the  interests  of  young  men  of  rank  who  were  traveling 



abroad  and  needed  advice  or  entertainment  or  letters  of 

But,  however  well  introduced,  Englishmen  in  Italy  who 
really  wished  to  know  the  Italian  people  were  hampered  by 
the  conditions  under  which  Italian  society  lived,  and  rarely 
saw  Italian  life  from  the  Italian  point  of  view.  In  some 
communities,  notably  Rome,  the  barriers  that  excluded 
strangers  were  not  rigidly  maintained,  but  even  in  favor- 
able cases  the  tourist  was  treated  as  a  tourist  and  not  as  an 
Italian.  Moreover,  tourists  who  carried  abroad  a  fixed 
prejudice  against  foreigners  were  unlikely  to  go  out  of  their 
way  to  seek  society  or  to  welcome  it  when  thrust  upon 
them.  Hence,  the  English  tourist,  as  a  rule,  gave  his  main 
attention  to  the  things  he  could  see,  and  regarded  the  in- 
habitants as  a  negligible  quantity.  People  he  could  see 
anywhere,  even  at  home.  In  fact,  an  Englishman  often 
hesitated  to  take  notice  of  his  own  countrymen  that  he 
casually  met  abroad,  either  for  fear  of  being  embarrassed 
by  their  company  later  or  merely  because  of  constitutional 
indifference.  Smollett  cites  two  striking  instances.  An 
Englishman  had  hired  a  felucca  and  a  servant  to  go  from 
Antibes  to  Leghorn.  "This  evening  [March  20,  1765]  he 
came  ashore  to  stretch  his  legs,  and  took  a  solitary  walk  on 
the  beach,  avoiding  us  with  great  care,  although  he  knew 
we  were  English:  his  valet,  who  was  abundantly  commu- 
nicative, told  my  servant  that  in  coming  through  France 
his  master  had  travelled  three  days  in  company  with  two 
other  English  gentlemen,  whom  he  met  upon  the  road,  and 
in  all  that  time  he  never  spoke  a  word  to  either:  yet  in 
other  respects  he  was  a  good  man,  mild,  charitable,  and 
humane.  This  is  a  character  truly  British."  '  In  another 
case,  "There  was  an  English  gentleman  laid  up  at  Auxerre 
with  a  broken  arm,  to  whom  I  sent  my  compliments,  with 
offers  of  service;  but  his  servant  told  my  man  that  he  did 
not  choose  to  see  any  company,  and  had  no  occasion  for  my 
service.  This  sort  of  reserve  seems  peculiar  to  the  Eng- 
lish disposition.  When  two  natives  of  any  other  country 
chance  to  meet  abroad,  they  run  into  each  other's  arms 



and  embrace  like  old  friends,  even  though  they  have  never 
heard  of  one  another  till  that  moment;  whereas  two  Eng- 
lishmen in  the  same  situation,  maintain  a  mutual  reserve 
and  diffidence,  and  keep  without  the  sphere  of  each  other's 
attraction,  like  two  bodies  endowed  with  a  repulsive 
power."  ' 

Hazlitt  remarks  upon  the  icy  reserve  of  an  English  gen- 
tleman with  whom  he  traveled  for  a  time  in  France,  and 
adds:  "I  know  few  things  more  delightful  than  for  two 
Englishmen  to  loll  in  a  post-chaise  in  this  manner,  taking 
no  notice  of  each  other,  preserving  an  obstinate  silence,  and 
determined  to  send  their  country  to  Coventry.  We  pre- 
tended not  to  recognise  each  other,  and  yet  our  saying 
nothing  proved  every  instant  that  we  were  not  French. 
At  length,  about  half  way,  my  companion  opened  his  lips, 
and  asked  in  thick,  broken  French,  'How  far  it  was  to 
Evreux?'  I  looked  at  him  and  said  in  English,  'I  did  not 
know.'  Not  another  word  passed."  ^  Naturally,  tourists 
of  this  type  baffied  even  the  most  determined  attempts  of 
foreigners  to  make  their  acquaintance. 

In  varying  degrees  this  excessive  reserve  was  the  accepted 
national  trait.  Dr.  Moore  tells  a  very  good  story  of  Lord  M. 
and  a  French  marquis  at  Paris,  who  "was  uncommonly 
lively."  The  genial  Frenchman  "addressed  much  of  his 
conversation  to  his  Lordship;  tried  him  upon  every  sub- 
ject, wine,  women,  horses,  politics,  and  religion.  He  then 
sung  Chansons  d  boire,  and  endeavoured  in  vain  to  get  my 
Lord  to  join  in  the  chorus.  Nothing  would  do.  —  He  ad- 
mired his  clothes,  praised  his  dog,  and  said  a  thousand 
obliging  things  of  the  English  nation.  To  no  purpose;  his 
Lordship  kept  up  his  silence  and  reserve  to  the  last,  and 
then  drove  away  to  the  opera.  '  Ma  foi,'  said  the  Marquis, 
as  soon  as  he  went  out  of  the  room,  'il  a  de  grands  talen(t)s 
pour  le  silence,  ce  Milord  la.'"  ^ 

The  English  attitude  was,  indeed,  peciiliarly  exasper- 
ating.   Dr.  Moore  cites  another  instance:  "Though  B 

understands  French,  and  speaks  it  better  than  most  Eng- 
lishmen, he  had  no  relish  for  the  conversation,  soon  left 



the  company,  and  has  refused  all  invitations  to  dinner  ever 
since.  He  generally  finds  some  of  our  countrymen  who 
dine  and  pass  the  evening  with  him  at  the  Pare  Royal."  On 

one  occasion  Moore  dined  with  his  friend  B "at  the 

public  ordinary  of  the  Hdtel  de  Bourbon.  .  .  .  Our  enter- 
tainment turned  out  different,  however,  from  my  expecta- 
tions and  his  wishes.  A  marked  attention  was  paid  us  from 
the  moment  we  entered;  every  body  seemed  inclined  to 
accommodate  us  with  the  best  places.  They  helped«us 
first,  and  all  the  company  seemed  ready  to  sacrifice  every 
little  conveniency  and  distinction  to  the  strangers:  For 
next  to  that  of  a  lady,  the  most  respected  character  at 
Paris  is  that  of  a  stranger.    All  this,  however,  was  thrown 

away  on  B .     'There  was  nothing  real  in  all  the  fuss 

those  people  made  about  us,'  says  he.  'Curse  their  cour- 
tesies,' said  he,  —  'they  are  the  greatest  bore  in  nature. 
—  I  hate  the  French.  —  They  are  the  enemies  of  England, 
and  a  false,  deceitful,  perfidious  — '  'But  as  we  did  not 
come  over,'  interrupted  I,  'to  fight  them  at  present,  we 
shall  suspend  hostilities  till  a  more  convenient  season.'"  * 

How  absurd  was  this  dislike  of  other  nations  many  Eng- 
lishmen clearly  perceived:  "The  English  aversion  to  for- 
eigners is  in  opposition  to  reason,  judgment,  and  politeness. 
Because  we  are  islanders,  the  happiest  circumstances  in 
some  respects  belonging  to  us;  are  our  manners  more  re- 
fined, or  are  our  customs  nearer  perfection,  than  the  cus- 
toms and  manners  of  other  people?  I  fear  the  contrary. 
Our  separation  from  the  Continent  gives  us  peculiarities 
which  other  nations  have  not.  It  gives  us  that  shyness, 
that  obstinate,  silent,  rude  reserve,  which  we  practise 
towards  ourselves  and  all  the  rest  of  the  world.  The  sneer, 
that  proud,  vain,  cowardly  sneer,  which  supplies  the  want 
of  wit,  and  discovers  the  abundance  of  ill-nature,  is  en- 
tirely and  shamefully  our  own;  so  that,  if  we  find  faults  in 
others,  how  many  faults  may  others  find  in  us?"  ^ 

In  the  endeavor  to  remedy  in  some  measure  this  state  of 
things  and  to  fit  their  countrymen  for  social  life  abroad, 
enhghtened  Englishmen  offered  such  advice  as  appears  in 



Andrews's  "Letters  to  a  Young  Gentleman":  ^  "In  order 
to  render  yourself  acceptable  to  French  companies,  you 
must  assume  something  of  their  manners  and  endeavor  to 
put  on  some  appearance  of  their  vivacity.  Their  chief 
complaint  respecting  us  is  a  defect  of  liveliness  and  a  taci- 
turnity which  they  suspect  sometimes  of  being  rather 
affected.  ...  In  the  mean  time,  that  you  may  fill  your 
place  with  propriety  in  French  companies,  furnish  your 
memory  with  as  many  anecdotes  as  you  can  procure  con- 
cerning the  people  of  high  rank  and  fashion  in  England." 

In  the  thirty  years  just  preceding  the  French  Revolution, 
Englishmen  of  high  birth  or  distinguished  for  achievement 
of  some  sort  had  as  a  rule  only  to  decide  which  social  invita- 
tions to  refuse.  In  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu's  day, 
however,  —  if  we  may  trust  her  sweeping  generalization, 
—  the  English  had  won  no  marked  social  recognition  in 
Italy,  though  perhaps  they  had  had  as  much  as  they  cared 
for.  She  says:  "To  say  truth,  they  (Mr.  Mackenzie  and 
Lord  Bristol)  are  the  only  young  men  I  have  seen  abroad, 
that  have  found  the  secret  of  introducing  themselves  into 
the  best  company.  All  the  others  now  living  here  (how- 
ever dignified  and  distinguished)  by  herding  together  and 
throwing  away  their  money  on  worthless  objects,  have  only 
acquired  the  glorious  title  of  Golden  Asses;  and  since  the 
birth  of  the  Italian  drama,  Goldoni  has  adorned  his 
scenes  with  gU  Milordi  Inglesi,  in  the  same  manner  as 
Moliere  represented  his  Parisian  marquises."  ^ 

Dr.  Moore  sums  up  the  whole  case  in  some  very  sensible 
remarks,  which  without  much  question  contain  a  large 
amount  of  truth :  — 

"Of  all  travellers,  the  young  English  nobility  and  gentry 
have  the  least  right  to  find  fault  with  their  entertainment, 
while  on  their  tours  abroad;  for  such  of  them  as  show  a 
desire  of  forming  a  connexion  with  the  inhabitants,  by 
even  a  moderate  degree  of  attention,  are  received  upon 
easier  terms  than  the  travellers  from  any  other  country. 
But  a  very  considerable  number  of  our  countrymen  have 
not  the  smallest  desire  of  that  nature:    They  seem  rather 



to  avoid  their  society,  and  accept  w-ith  reluctance  every 
offer  of  hospitality.  This  happens  partly  from  a  prejudice 
against  foreigners  of  every  kind;  partly  from  timidity  or 
natural  reserve;  and  in  a  great  measure  from  indolence, 
and  an  absolute  detestation  of  ceremony  and  restraint. 
Besides,  they  hate  to  be  obliged  to  speak  a  language  of 
which  they  seldom  acquire  a  perfect  command. 

"They  frequently,  therefore,  form  societies  or  clubs  of 
their  own,  where  all  ceremony  is  dismissed,  and  the  greatest 
ease  and  latitude  allowed  in  behaviour,  dress,  and  conver- 
sation. There  they  confimi  each  other  in  all  their  preju- 
dices, and  with  united  voices  condemn  and  ridicule  the 
customs  and  manners  of  every  country  but  their  own. 

"By  this  conduct  the  true  purpose  of  travelling  is  lost 
or  perverted;  and  many  English  travellers  remain  four  or 
five  years  abroad,  and  have  seldom,  during  all  this  space, 
been  in  any  company  but  that  of  their  own  countrymen. 

"To  go  to  France  and  Italy,  and  there  converse  with 
none  but  English  people,  and  merely  that  j'^ou  may  have 
it  to  say  that  you  have  been  in  those  countries,  is  certainly 
absurd.  Nothing  can  be  more  so,  except  to  adopt  with 
enthusiasm  the  fashions,  fopperies,  taste,  and  manners  of 
those  countries,  and  transplant  them  to  England,  where 
they  never  will  thrive,  and  where  they  always  appear 
awkward  and  unnatural.  For  after  all  his  efforts  of  imita- 
tion, a  travelled  Englishman  is  as  different  from  a  French- 
man or  an  Italian  as  an  English  mastiff  is  from  a  monkey 
or  a  fox.  And  if  ever  that  sedate  and  plain-meaning  dog 
should  pretend  to  the  gay  f riskiness  of  the  one,  or  to  the 
subtility  of  the  other,  we  should  certainly  value  him  much 
less  than  we  do, 

"  But  I  do  not  imagine  that  this  extreme  is  by  any  means 
so  common  as  the  former.  It  is  much  more  natural  to  the 
English  character  to  despise  foreigners  than  to  imitate  them. 
A  few  tawdry  examples  to  the  contrary,  who  return  every 
winter  from  the  Continent,  are  hardly  worth  mentioning 
as  exceptions."  ^ 

With  reference  to  the  English  habit  of  herding  together, 



he  observes  also:  "It  would  be  arrogance  in  anybody  to 
dispute  the  right  which  every  free-born  Englishman  has 
to  follow  his  own  inclination  in  this  particular:  Yet  when 
people  wish  to  avoid  the  company  of  strangers,  it  strikes 
me  that  they  might  indulge  their  fancy  as  comi^letely  at 
home  as  abroad ;  and  while  they  continue  in  that  humour, 
I  cannot  help  thinking  that  they  might  save  themselves 
the  inconveniency  and  expense  of  travelling."  ' 

Defects  of  temperament  and  education,  the  Englishman 
undoubtedly  had.  He  too  readily  assumed  that  what  he 
had  been  taught  to  approve  was  the  sole  standard  of  truth. 
But  foreigners  of  discernment  were  bound  to  recognize 
the  sterling  character  of  the  better  English  travelers.  Eng- 
lishmen as  a  class  had  a  reputation  for  fair  dealing,  and  for 
keeping  their  promises.  Rightly  enough,  as  Trevelyan 
says,  was  the  British  name  venerated  on  the  Continent.' 

We  have  still  one  important  matter  to  consider,  and  that 
is  the  eighteenth-century  tourist's  estimate  of  medieval 
architecture.  As  every  one  knows,  the  eighteenth  century 
passed  through  a  revolution  in  taste  as  well  as  in  systems 
of  government.  The  man  who  had  come  to  maturity  be- 
fore 1760  continued  in  the  main  to  apply  the  old  standards, 
even  in  the  last  third  of  the  century.  And  even  the  younger 
men  began  only  here  and  there  to  see  merit  in  buildings 
that  had  for  generations  been  despised. 

Naturally  enough,  to  us  of  the  twentieth  century  the 
judgments  of  most  eighteenth-century  travelers  in  matters 
of  art  and  architecture  seem  strangely  narrow  and  con- 
ventional. They  commonly  admire  uncritically,  or  if 
they  find  fault,  they  judge  by  standards  that  to  our  time 
appear  absurdly  false.'  A  multitude  of  things  that  the 
modern  traveler  counts  of  the  highest  value  are  to  earlier 
tourists  matters  of  supreme  indifference.  In  place  of 
an  intelligent  description  of  the  buildings  of  a  town, 
they  often  give  a  mere  catalogue,  betraying  no  personal 



knowledge  and  no  critical  judgment.  The  whole  might 
have  been  taken  from  the  guide-book,  without  the  trouble 
of  a  visit.  Note  what  Northall  says  of  Vicenza,  which 
boasts  in  its  town  hall  the  greatest  achievement  of  Palla- 
dio.  The  entire  account  is  as  follows:  "On  the  3d  of 
June  (1752)  we  came  to  Vicenza;  a  small  town,  but  very 
populous;  the  manufacture  of  silk  being  very  considerable 
here.  The  townhouse  was  built  by  Palladio;  and  here 
is  a  beautiful  piece  of  architecture  by  the  same,  a  theatre 
built  after  the  antique  manner.  Near  this  town  is  a 
famous  country  seat  belonging  to  the  Marquis  of  Capra, 
built  by  Palladio."^ 

Especially  marked  was  the  general  failure  to  appre- 
ciate the  works  of  the  Middle  Ages.  To  most  tourists 
before  the  French  Revolution  the  Middle  Ages  were 
a  sealed  book,  and  to  the  average  man  the  great  cathe- 
drals and  castles,  though  surpassing  almost  anything  of 
a  later  day,  made  slight  appeal.  Prepossessed  with  the 
notion  that  medieval  art  and  architecture  could  be  naught 
but  barbarous,  tourists  in  France  and  Italy  bestowed 
only  a  passing  glance  upon  delightful  medieval  cities 
and  hastened  on  to  Rome.  Naturally,  then,  we  must  not 
expect  to  find  many  tourists  visiting  for  mere  sight-seeing 
old  hill  towns  like  Assisi  or  Perugia  or  Orvieto  or  Ur- 
bino  or  San  Gimignano  or  Volterra.  To  many  an  Eng- 
lishman Italy  was  interesting  chiefly  as  a  vast  museum 
of  antiquity  which  enabled,  him  to  vivify  his  recollec- 
tions of  the  classics.  On  a  lower  plane,  but  neverthe- 
less not  to  be  despised,  he  placed  the  work  of  the  Re- 
naissance, Raphael,  Michael  Angelo,  Bramante,  Guido 
Reni.  The  great  ancient  world  and  the  great  Renais- 
sance he  could  fairly  well  understand,  for  their  life  was 
expressed  in  terms  with  which  he  was  familiar.  But 
to  the  thousand  years  preceding  the  fifteenth  century 
he  gave  little  thought.^  For  the  buildings  and  pictures 
and  mosaics  of  that  age  he  sometimes  had  a  word  of 
condescending  praise,  but  of  insight  into  the  medieval 
temper  he  had  very  little.     The  rhapsodies  of  Ruskin 



over  Gothic  art  or  things  medieval  would  have  seemed 
to  him  little  better  than  raving.  Up  to  the  middle  of 
the  eighteenth  century  travelers  seldom  let  slip  an  op- 
portunity to  show  contempt  for  Gothic  architecture  as 
unworthy  the  attention  of  a  man  of  cultivated  taste. ^ 
Already  in  the  time  of  the  Renaissance,  Tasso,  as  Babeau 
points  out,  had  found  Gothic  ^  architecture  barbarous.' 
Montaigne  "troubled  himself  in  no  way  with  Gothic 
buildings.  For  him  the  cathedral  of  Chalons  seems  not 
even  to  exist."  ^  When  later  travelers  approve  a  minor 
detail  of  a  Gothic  building,  they  usually  qualify  their 
commendation  with  an  added  slur.  In  Evelyn's  opinion 
St.  John  Lateran  is  "for  outward  form,  not  comparable 
to  St.  Peter's,  being  of  Gothic  ordonnance."  ^  Santa 
Croce  of  Jerusalem  "without  is  Gothic,  but  very  glorious 
within."  ®  Of  Monreale,  with  its  glorious  array  of  an- 
cient mosaics  and  its  unrivaled  cloisters,  which  Spanish 
soldiers  had  enjoyed  hacking  and  mutilating,  one  tour- 
ist can  say  only  that  "the  cathedral  exhibits  a  very  dis- 
agreeable specimen  of  the  Gothic  taste,"  ^  and  Breval 
observes  that  "The  Isles  are  filled  with  historical  Rep- 
resentations in  a  barbarous  Mosaic,  out  of  the  old  and  new 
Testament."^  Northall  (1752)  patronizingly  says  of 
"the  old  churches  of  Florence"  that  they  "are  built 
in  the  Gothic  taste,  and  fine  in  their  way;  but  the  more 
modem  churches  are  built  in  a  good  taste."  ^  Of  Siena, 
he  apologetically  remarks,  "There  is  nothing  in  this  city 
so  extraordinary  as  the  cathedral,  which  a  man  may 
view  with  pleasure  after  he  has  seen  St.  Peter's;  though 
it  is  quite  of  another  make,  and  can  only  be  looked  upon 
as  one  of  the  masterpieces  of  Gothic  architecture." '° 
De  La  Lande  is  full  of  the  same  prejudice.  Of  Colleoni's 
tomb  at  Bergamo,  one  of  the  most  notable  works  of  the 
early  Renaissance,  he  says:  "It  is  very  bad.  It  is  of  a 
time  that  had  not  yet  emerged  from  the  Gothic."  ^^  The 
author  of  an  anonymous  "Totu*  through  Germany" 
(1792)  remarks  of  the  exquisite  cathedral  of  Regens- 
burg:     "The  cathedral  is  not  admired  for  its  beauty,  or 



any  other  excellency;  but  the  monastery  of  St.  Emeran 
is  well  worth  seeing."  ^ 

It  is  not  true  that  the  eighteenth  century  was  entirely 
indifferent  to  Gothic  architecture,  for  an  occasional  word 
of  praise  for  Gothic  is  already  heard  in  the  first  half  of 
the  century,  and  after  the  middle  of  the  century  Gothic 
architecture  has  no  lack  of  defenders.  Even  Misson 
admired  the  cathedral  of  Siena.  "  The  cathedral  is  of 
a  fine  Gothic  structure,  and  its  beauty  is  so  much  the 
more  remarkable,  that  the  building  is  finished,  which  is 
scarcely  to  be  seen  in  great  churches."  ^  Representative 
guide-books  like  Nugent's  "Grand  Tour"  and  De  la 
Force's  "Nouvelle  Description  de  la  France"  devote 
considerable  space  to  Gothic  cathedrals.  But  there  is 
in  general  no  intelligent  understanding  of  the  principles 
of  Gothic  art,  even  among  those  who  arc  most  interested. 
The  comment  on  Gothic  buildings  is  vague,  and  where 
it  is  specific,  it  often  mingles  impartially  praise  and  blame, 
as  in  the  following  on  the  cathedral  of  Rheims:  "The 
front  of  this  stupendous  church  consists  of  a  vast  number 
of  statues:  Saints  in  miniature,  placed  in  little  niches, 
and  in  exact  spaces;  so  that  the  eye  is  pleased  and  shocked 
at  the  same  time.  Magnificence  is  mixed  with  little- 
ness, grandeur  with  meanness,  proportion  with  dispro- 
portion; consequently  it  creates  in  our  thoughts  an  un- 
easy mixture  of  admiration  and  contempt.  The  painted 
windows  are  all  perfect,  and  the  sun  has  a  glorious  effect 
upon  the  variety  of  their  colours."  ' 

Nugent's  "Grand  Tour"  admirably  illustrates  the 
growing  admiration  for  Gothic,  though  he  has  hazy  ideas 
of  the  development  of  medieval  architecture.  The  ex- 
quisite Romanesque  church  of  "S.  Trophimus"  at  Aries 
he  calls  "a  vast  Gothic  structure."^  "The  cathedral" 
at  Vienne,  "dedicated  to  S.  Maurice  is  a  magnificent 
Gothic  structure."  ^  He  has  also  a  good  word  for  the 
cathedrals  of  Strassburg,  Orleans,  and  Chartres.  It 
is  notable  that  he  says  nothing  of  the  exquisite  stained  glass 
at  Chartres.^    Even  more  than  Nugent,  Dr.  John  Moore 



is  in  hearty  accord  with  the  spirit  of  the  Gothic  builders. 
After  praising  the  cathedral  of  Strassburg  as  "a  very 
fine  building,"  he  goes  on  to  say:  "Our  Gothic  ances- 
tors, like  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  built  for  posterity. 
Their  ideas  in  architecture,  though  different  from  those 
of  the  Grecian  artists,  were  vast,  sublime,  and  generous, 
far  superior  to  the  selfish  smugness  of  modern  taste,  which 
is  generally  confined  to  one  or  two  generations;  the  plans 
of  our  ancestors  with  a  more  extensive  benevolence  em- 
brace distant  ages."^ 

In  1787,  St.  John,  in  his  "Letters  from  France,"  shows 
himself  a  passionate  admirer  of  the  Gothic.  "Though 
there  are,"  says  he,  "absurdities  in  the  Gothic  archi- 
tecture, yet  I  think  the  moderns  are  wrong  totally  to 
exclude  it."  ^  He  dwells  upon  "the  lofty  majesty  and 
beauty  of  the  inside"  of  N6tre  Dame'  and  declares: 
"I  would  rather  spend  my  life  even  in  an  old  Gothic 
castle  in  a  romantic  situation,  with  rocks  and  woods 
and  cataracts  around  me,  than  in  all  the  formal  grand- 
eur and  stupid  regularity  of  Versailles."  *  Of  Chantilly 
he  says  with  enthusiasm:  "The  castle  is  a  great  pile  of 
Gothic  building,  with  huge  round  towers  at  the  angles 
to  serve  as  bastions.  The  venerable  aspect  of  this  groupe 
of  Gothic  castles,  dark  and  solemn,  in  the  middle  of  a 
fine  sheet  of  water,  impresses  the  beholder  with  awe 
and  admiration.  ...  It  appears  antique,  solemn  and 
romantic;  and  the  noblest  piece  of  Corinthian  archi- 
tecture does  not  appear  so  awful  and  majestic  as  the 
antique  walls  and  ramparts  of  Chantilly."  ^ 

But  it  is  unnecessary  to  multiply  examples.  Hence- 
forth one  needed  not  to  apologize  for  admiring  the  most 
fascinating  architecture  in  Europe,  though  two  or  three 
generations  had  yet  to  pass  before  one  could  judge  Gothic 
buildings  with  thoroughly  intelligent  tmderstanding  of 
their  development. 




If  this  chapter  were  concerned  vdth  the  touring  of  a 
century  or  two  earlier,  the  main  theme  might  well  be  the 
peril  of  travel.  So  distinctly  was  every  sixteenth-century 
journey  an  achievement  that  the  traveler  not  unpardon- 
ably  regarded  himself  as  in  some  sense  an  explorer  and 
a  hero.  In  the  eighteenth  century  there  was  less  of  ac- 
tual danger.  But  travel  in  the  eighteenth  century  was 
not  an  unalloyed  pleasure,  though  the  zeal  and  persis- 
tence with  which  Englishmen  flocked  to  the  Continent 
are  sufhcient  proof  that  they  thought  the  pleasure  ex- 
ceeded the  pain.  Incidentally,  in  some  other  chapters 
we  have  noted  unpleasant  features  of  travel  that  could 
not  be  escaped  by  any  forethought.  There  still  remain 
a  large  number  of  annoyances,  or  worse, —  some  of  them 
petty  enough  in  themselves,  perhaps  even  laughable  in 
the  retrospect, —  which  materially  affected  the  comfort 
and  dulled  the  pleasure  of  the  journey. 

Since  almost  every  serious  traveler  thought  it  his  duty 
to  keep  some  sort  of  account  of  his  journey,  we  have  no 
lack  of  descriptions  of  the  experiences  that  one  ordinarily 
went  through.  From  these  relations  we  see  that  those 
who  were  bent  on  visiting  Rome  and  Naples  and  Vienna 
had  a  long,  hard  pilgrimage  before  they  reached  the 
promised  land.  Moreover,  from  the  chronicles  of  the 
minor  hindrances  and  discomforts  suffered  even  by  wealthy 
travelers,  we  may  infer  what  was  to  be  expected  by  trav- 
elers of  modest  resources.  Significant,  at  all  events,  is 
it  that  practically  no  one  failed  to  record  some  well- 
grounded  complaint. 



A  j.^rcat  number  of  the  conveniences  of  travel  that  we 
now  rely  upon  as  a  matter  of  course  were  lackinj^^  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  there  were  scores  of  obstacles 
now  rarely  encountered.  Travelers  of  every  sort  com- 
plain of  annoyinj.^  delay  and  expense  owing  to  govern- 
ment regulations  They  meet  discomfort  and  extortion 
on  the  road;  the  inns  are  dirty  and  ill-provided;  the  ser- 
vants are  ill-traine^l;  the  food  is  uneatable;  the  beds  are 
damp  and  filthy,  and  often  alive  with  vermin.  These 
and  a  multitude  of  other  trials  made  the  journey  hard, 
and  often  tempted  the  traveler  to  wish  that  he  had  been 
content  to  remain  at  home. 

Sharp,  writing  from  Naples,  says:  "Could  an  asth- 
matic man  jump  from  London  to  the  lodgings  I  have 
taken,  though  at  any  risk  of  his  neck,  he  would  do  well 
to  venture;  but  I  cannot  say  it  woiild  ?je  worth  while 
to  go  and  return  as  we  do,  through  so  much  filth,  and  so 
many  suflerings  from  bugs,  lice,  fleas,  gnats,  spiders,"  * 

With  the  dawn  of  the  eighteenth  century  not  a  few  of 
the  dangers  and  annoyances  of  an  earlier  day  were  les- 
sened or  entirely  removed,  but  outside  the  large  towns, 
and  particularly  off  the  main  lines  of  travel,  conditions 
were  often  frightfully  primitive.  The  toil  of  travel  was 
painfully  felt  in  the  long,  slow  journeys  that  no  one, 
whatever  his  wealth,  could  hope  to  escape.  A  young 
man  flushed  with  health  might  enjoy  the  experience,  but 
it  was  none  the  less  severe. 

Writing  to  Selwyn,  in  1768,  the  Earl  of  Carlisle  says: 
"I  was  in  bed  but  seven  hours  in  going  three  hundred 
and  forty  miles,  but  as  I  could  sleep  five-and-forty  miles 
without  waking,  I  was  very  little  tired,  and,  having  two 
carriages,  it  was  no  great  fatigue  to  the  servants.  I  crossed 
the  Danube  over  a  bridge  when  the  postilions  would 
not  suffer  me  to  remain  in  the  chaise.  I  must  own  I  had 
some  apprehensions  for  my  clothes,  as  the  bridge,  being 
very  old,  and  made  of  wood,  even  with  my  weight  shook 
considerably,  but  no  accident  happened."  ^ 



Fortunately,  the  mind  of  the  average  tourist  was  pre- 
pared to  meet  some  discomfort,  since,  to  a  far  greater 
degree  than  is  now  the  case,  he  was  everywhere  com- 
pelled to  come  into  personal  contact  vnth  unpleasant 
things.  Many  of  these  things,  where  they  still  exist,  are 
escaped  by  the  traveler  who  has  a  modem  guide-book 
which  warns  him  what  to  avoid.  There  were  guide- 
books, even  in  the  eighteenth  century  and  earlier,  and 
some,  like  Misson's  and  Nugent's,  had  excellent  feakires, 
but  most  guidebooks  were  defective  in  failing  to  provide 
maps  of  countries  showing  the  best  routes,  plans  of  cities, 
and  adequate  information  about  the  character  and  situa- 
tion of  inns  and  about  prices.  Travel  was  for  the  rich, 
who  were  able  to  pay  any  price.  To  be  too  inquisitive 
about  the  cost  of  things  was  vulgar,  and,  besides,  made 
unnecessary  trouble  for  the  compiler  of  the  guide-book. 
But  in  many  cases  comfort  could  not  be  secured  at  any 


We  must  never  forget  that,  with  all  its  delights,  an 
eighteenth-century  journey  was  a  serious  affair,  and  that 
prayers  were  commonly  offered  up  in  the  churches  for  a 
pious  traveler's  safe  return.  Mindful  of  perils  on  sea  and 
on  land,  Englishmen  a  century  and  a  half  ago  prepared  for 
a  tour  abroad  almost  as  carefully  as  a  soldier  prepares  for 
a  campaign.  And  this  was  no  mere  excess  of  caution,  for 
there  was  always  a  possibility  that  the  traveler  might  not 
arrive  unharmed  at  his  destination.  War  was  by  no  means 
continuous  in  the  eighteenth  century,  but  the  interrup- 
tions to  travel  from  this  cause  were  not  slight.'  During  the 
Seven  Years*  War,  for  example,  tourist  travel  almost 
ceased.  After  the  peace  of  1763  it  began  again  with  re- 
newed  activity. 

Perils  of  another  sort  beset  the  traveler  by  sea.  Nearly 
every  tourist  to  the  Continent  crossed  at  least  the  Channel 
or  the  North  Sea,  but  comparatively  few  made  the  long 
voyage  through  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar  to  Italy.    And  it 



was  W':ll  that  i.hi-.y  *]]']  not.  Tho  ship«  wctc  oommonJy 
•mall  and  'iirty,  thf;  f'x^d  Lai-j,  thf;  weathfrr  ofV.-n  row/h,  :xn<], 
worst  of  all,  there  were  lon^-fitandinjj  trafHtion--:  of  capture 
and  imprir/jnment  by  fXia-rovcrs.  In  the  time  of  Chaucer 
there  v/ar;  danj^er  from  pirateii  or  privat/iers  even  in  crosw- 
in^  the  En^di;;h  Channel.  And  this  clanger  r;till  threats 
enwl  travelerfi  on  mo;:t  f-x;a'>  in  th^;  firit  half  of  th^:  rxrv^-n- 
tcenth  amtury.' 

In  the  dj^hUjenth  century  no  touri;>t  to  the  Continent 
had  ;^reat  rcaf^^n  f'^/r  apprehension  f^  this  score  exc^ipt  in 
the  Mcdit^rrranean.  Here  on/i  ran  at  least  a  chance  of 
bdn^^  pounced  upon  by  f/ne  of  the  lurkinj^  piratical  veiisels 
from  liarbary.  Note  Bercht'-^ld's  v/ord  of  cauti''/n:  "It  is 
a  rnaXUtv  of  importance  t^.»  know  wh/rther  that  flaj<  which 
the  vessel  carries  is  rcsfKXi/i^l  by  the  pyratical  pov/ers  of 
Bar?jary,  or  not,  if  tho  c/urr/i  of  the  vcfiJX;!  sh'-Aild  li';  n';ar 
to  any  such  p<'/rts."  * 

Jiy  huj^jonj^  the  shore  the  i/Airhi  y/An'^  fn/m  Mar/Hlles 
U'j  Genoa  or  Le^^hom  ran  no  very  'M:nrju:i  risk  of  cndm'^ 
his  days  as  a  captive  in  Barbary.*  But  Nugent  gives 
warning  that  in  g'^nng  fr'-/m  Rf/mf:  Uj  Naple^i  "there  is 
danger  of  ?jeing  taken  by  the  a^sairs  of  Barbary  who  oftc-n- 
times  hide  themrx;lveii  clof>e  to  the  shore  and  surprise  the 
feluccas.  "< 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  mo:.t  pov/erful  natiorj.s  of 
Eurofx;  in  the  eighteenth  century  regularly  paid  trilmUi 
Uj  the  Barbary  p\r<x\j-j:,  in  order  t/j  insure  the  safety  of 
their  ve^ir^els.  "Italian  merchantmen  on  the  high  seas 
flev/  the  flag  of  another  nation  as  a  l'>etter  protection  against 
capture."^  "Even  the  coasts  wc-re  threat^;n'':d  by  Bar- 
bary pirates  again:;t  whr/m  the  government  a.«uld  fmd  no 
other  help  than  to  ercjct  382  towers  on  the  coasts,  not  to 
defend  them,  but  t/j  raise  the  alarm  ami-jng  the  people,  so 
that  in  case  of  rlanger  they  could  v/ithdrav/  from  the  fields 
U.»  enclosed  places." '  In  case  of  neglect  to  claim  the  pro- 
tection of  the  flag  of  s^^me  strong  naval  [>ower,  remarks  an 
English  tourist  in  1741,  mariners  "are  so  much  pestered 
with  the  Algerines  that  they  are  forced  Uj  carry  in  their 



vessels  a  little  boat,  into  which  when  they  see  the  Alger- 
ines,  or  aiiy  other  enemy  niaking  towards  them,  they  cast 
their  provisions  away,  and  make  to  the  next  port,  leaving 
their  vessel  behind  them ;  upon  which  very  often  t  heir  ene- 
mies go  away,  not  much  valuing  their  vessels  or  goods,  the 
chief  prey  which  they  hunt  for  being  their  men  to  carry 
into  slavery.  The  princes  and  states  of  Italy  arc  not  in  any 
condition  to  clear  the  seas  of  these  robbers."  * 



Few  modem  travelers  in  Europe  count  it  as  one  of  the 
possibilities  of  a  Continental  tour  that  they  may  be  robbed 
on  their  jouniey.  Except  for  small  pilfering,  such  as 
one  may  expect  almost  anywhere,  the  ordinary  traveler 
in  Europe  has  little  occasion  to  fear  for  his  valuables  or 
his  personal  safety,  and  probably  not  one  tourist  in  a 
thousand  goes  armed. 

In  the  eighteenth  century  the  danger  was  more  serious. 
Of  course,  the  great  majority  of  travelers  were  never 
molested.  But  danger  there  still  was  and  far  more  than 
one  would  now  ordinarily  encounter  in  any  civilized  coun- 
try. One  who  traveled  widely,  particularly  in  the  south  of 
Europe,  could  not  count  with  entire  certainty  on  arriving 
unmolested  at  his  destination.  Very  significant  is  the  sug- 
gestion in  an  eighteenth-century  book  of  advice  to  trav- 
elers: "Double-barrelled  pistols  are  very  well  calculated 
for  the  defence  of  the  traveller,  particularly  those  which 
have  both  barrels  above,  and  do  not  require  turning."  ■^ 

So  common  was  the  carrying  of  anus  that  some  cities, 
as  for  instance  Lucca,  required  pistols  and  swords  to  be 
given  up  at  the  gate  of  entry,  and  returned  them  when  the 
tourist  departed.  The  fees  often  amounted  by  the  end  of 
the  journey  to  as  much  as  the  weapons  were  worth.^  In 
time  of  war  and  social  unrest  highwaymen  may  be  ex- 
pected anywhere;  but  in  the  eighteenth  century  they  had 
to  be  reckoned  with,  even  in  the  leading  countries  of  Eu- 
rope, during  periods  of  profound  peace.    Police  protection 





was  imperfect  in  London  itself,  and  the  English  roads  were 
notoriously  insecure.^  Walpole  complains  in  1774:  "Our 
roads  are  so  infested  by  highwaymen,  that  it  is  dangerous 
stirring  out  almost  by  day";  and  he  adds  interesting 

^  In  France  the  mounted  police  had  largely  cleared  out  the 
highwaymen  that  were  the  pest  of  the  seventeenth  century,^ 
but  it  was  still  hazardous  to  travel  at  night  unarmed,  or  to 
traverse  dense  forests  without  a  guard.     Some  streets  of 
Paris  were  especially  frequented  by  robbers  ^  and  so  were 
the  bridges.    A  real  danger  to  tourists  in  almost  every  city 
arose  from  the  generally  unlighted  streets.    Even  though  a 
street  lantern  might  be  hung  here  and  there  in  a  few  cities, 
the  light  barely  made  the  lantern  itself  visible.     No  thief 
had  much  reason  to  fear  recognition  or  pursuit  after  night- 
fall.   The  only  safe  thing  to  do  was  to  carry  a  lantern  one's 
self  after  ten  at  night,  and  so  to  carry  it  as  to  throw  the 
light  into  all  alleyways  and  lurking-places.    And  in  many 
cities  such  lanterns  were  required  by  law.    At  Saint-Omer, 
notes  a  tourist  in  1776,  "After  ten  at  night  in  the  summer,' 
and  much  sooner  in  the  winter,  a  person  passing  along  the 
street  must  have  a  lanthorn,  or  candle,  or  torch,  Hghted 
in  his  hand,  or  be  attended  by  a  light,  or  must  show  that 
he  has  just  had  some  such;   without  which  ceremony  any 
gentleman  is  in  danger  of  being  taken  up  as  a  suspicious 
person  and  carried  to  prison."  ^ 

At  Dieppe,  we  read,  "Every  person  who  is  abroad  with- 
out a  lanthorn,  after  ten  at  night,  is  taken  into  custody  by 
the  poHce.  With  their  eariy  hours,  ten  is  equivalent  to  our 
twelve."  ^ 

In  the  matter  of  lighting  the  streets  the  largest  Italian 
cities  were  very  backward.  "What  is  the  greatest  dis- 
grace to  Rome,  and  indeed,  to  every  city  in  Italy,  is  the 
uncomfortableness  and  danger  of  passing  through  the 
streets  after  sunset;  for  there  is  not  the  least  provision 
made  for  lighting  them.  London  seems  to  be  the  single  town 
in  Europe  where  that  convenience  is  rightly  understood,  and 
carried  effectually  into  execution;  for,  at  Paris,  the  candles 



in  their  brown  glass  lanterns  i:ive  but  little  li{j:ht,  whilst 
they  do  bum,  and,  beini:;  small,  are  soon  extin«::uished."  * 

Amonj::  Italian  cities  Palenno  was  a  notable  exception  for 
being  well  lighted.  Some  parts  of  Europe,  indeed,  were 
"so  safe  in  the  day  that  a  child  might  travel  with  a  purse 
of  gold  and  not  be  robbed  of  it."  '  And  at  night,  though 
there  was  more  risk,  one  seldom  met  a  highwayman.  In 
Germany  there  were  "few  robberies  and  fewer  murders."  ' 
Even  in  the  dense  Spezzart  Forest,  near  AschatTei^burg, 
"for  twenty  years,"  says  a  traveler,  "there  has  not  been  an 
instance  of  any  person  being  attacked."  In  the  early  seven- 
teenth century/  however,  and  throughout  the  Thirty 
Years'  War,  Gennany  was  notorious  for  crimes  of  the  road. 

Judged  by  the  standards  of  the  eighteenth  century,  Italy 
aflorded  reasonable  security  to  travelers,  though  to  us 
there  seems  much  to  be  desired.  Ui")on  Italy  a  well-in- 
fonned  French  traveler  bestowed  the  moderate  praise  that 
in  general  less  was  stolen  there  than  in  England.*  But  the 
multiplication  of  small  states  afforded  peculiar  temptation 
to  crime.  Gentlemen  "vN-ill  be  upon  their  guard,"  suggests 
a  contemporary  guide-book,'  "not  to  lodge  at  night  where 
two  states  border,  for  there  most  robberies  and  murders 
are  committed,  as  the  olTenders  in  half  an  hour  may  get 
out  of  the  reach  of  justice  from  that  territory  where  the 
act  is  committed." 

Long  after  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century,  personal 
safety  was  very  insecure  in  many  parts  of  Italy.  Says  Tre- 
velyan,  "In  the  matter  of  taking  human  life  Italian  civ'ili- 
sation  was,  perhaps,  at  very  much  the  same  stage  of  evo- 
lution in  184S  as  English  civilisation  had  been  two  hmidred 
and  twenty  years  before,  when  the  'killing  affray'  was  only 
just  in  process  of  dpng  out."  '  Particularly  in  southern 
Italy  human  life  counted  for  little.  Every  year  in  the 
Kingdom  of  Naples  a  thousand  persons  were  killed.  From 
four  to  five  thousand  assassins  *  were  at  the  service  of  any 
one  with  a  grudge  to  satisfy.  People  went  armed  for 
olTense  or  defense,  almost  all  with  pistol,  knife,  or  musket.' 
Naturally  enough,  robberies  were  most  frequent  in   the 



states  that  were  worst  governed.  Conditions  in  the 
Kingdom  of  Naples  were  perennially  ?;ad.  "The  land 
roads  were  infested  with  robbers  and  brigands,  so  that 
the  government  recommended  travelers  to  go  in  cara- 
vans." '  Now  and  then  there  would  be  an  improvement 
for  a  time,  followed  by  a  period  of  social  unrest  that 
brought  back  the  old  evils.* 

Commenting  upon  the  caravans,  Misson  remarks  that 
"at  present  there  is  no  danger,"  adding,  however,  "But 
tho'  the  profest  banditti  are  extirpated,  there  are  still  re- 
maining a  great  number  of  others  who  are  little  better."  ' 
In  another  place,  nevertheless,  he  says:  "Highway  robbers 
are  no  more  dangerous  in  this  country  than  scorpions  or 
tarantulas;  for  there  have  not  been  any  banditti  at  Rome 
since  the  pontificate  of  Sixtus  V."  * 

In  his  turn,  Keysler,  writing  about  1730,  says:  "One 
may  now  travel  with  as  much  safety  in  Italy  as  in  any 
other  country."  ^  Yet  in  speaking  of  excursions  to  Vesuvius 
and  elsewhere  he  says:  "A  traveller  should  by  all  means 
carry  fire-arms  with  him  on  these  occasions;  those  people 
being  trained  up  to  rob  and  murder,  and  accustomed  to 
wear  at  their  side  large  couteaux."  * 

Peculiarly  bad  was  the  reputation  of  the  Papal  States, 
and  especially  of  the  Roman  Campagna.^  But  we  must  re- 
member that  Italy  was  made  up  of  many  States  widely 
differing  in  character,  and  that  a  sweeping  statement  is 
hazardous.  Owing,  doubtless,  to  the  fact  that  most  English 
tourists  were  well  protected,  the  number  of  those  who  were 
disturbed  on  the  road  was  relatively  small.  Moreover,  as 
the  well-informed  English  traveler  Sherlock,  writing  about 
1780,  remarks:  "The  nation  is  exceedingly  poor,  and  that 
counsellor  of  evil.  Hunger,  makes  them  commit  many 
rogueries.  It  is  not,  however,  as  is  generally  believed,  a 
country  of  robbers  and  assassins.  My  countrymen  travel 
there  almost  continually,  and  for  thirty  years  past  there 
has  been  but  one  accident  which  has  happened  to  them, 
or  to  any  of  their  people;  and  even  that  ought  not  to  be 
mentioned  as  an  exception.    As  the  courier  of  an  English 



duke  was  passing  a  river,  he  struck  one  of  the  boatmen  with 
his  whip,  and  the  boatmen  shot  him."  It  is  worth  noting 
that  he  adds:  "The  country  in  general,  especially  Naples, 
swarms  with  pick-pockets."  ^ 

But  while  great  robberies  were  few,  small  pilfering  was 
common.  Thieves  would  sneak  up  behind  a  traveler's 
carriage,  cut  the  straps  that  fastened  trunks  or  portman- 
teaus, and  make  off  with  their  booty  unperceived.  In  going 
from  Sinigaglia  to  Ancona,  Dr.  Moore  observed  suspicicnis- 
looking  "men  in  sailors'  dresses.  .  .  .  Our  company  was 
too  numerous  to  be  attacked;  but  they  attempted,  secretly, 
to  cut  off  the  trunks  from  the  chaises,  without  succeeding."  ^ 

"Travellers,"  says  Berchtold,  "should  not  permit  stran- 
gers to  place  themselves  behind  their  vehicle,  under  any 
pretext  whatsoever,  because  there  are  innumerable  in- 
stances of  coaches  having  been  disabled  from  proceeding, 
and  unsuspecting  travellers  robbed  and  killed  by  this 
scheme.  In  suspicious  places,  the  trunk  should  be  placed 
before  the  coach;  which  place  should  generally  be  made 
use  of  as  often  as  circumstances  ^vill  permit."  ' 

Travelers  sometimes  invited  attack  by  a  foolish  display 
of  wealth.  Nugent  warns  tourists  against  pulling  out 
money  or  other  valuables  before  strange  company  on  the 
roads  or  at  inns.  "If  this  be  a  salutary  advice  in  all  coun- 
tries, 'tis  especially  so  in  Italy,  where  though  the  public 
roads  are  not  much  infested  with  highwaymen,  yet  there  are 
a  great  many  villains  who  are  ready  to  murder  or  assassin- 
ate a  stranger  in  private  houses,  when  they  happen  to  have 
a  prospect  of  some  considerable  prey.  'Tis  proper  also  to 
travel  with  arms,  such  as  a  sword  and  a  pair  of  pistols,  and 
likewise  with  a  tinder-box,  in  order  to  strike  a  fire  in  case  of 
any  accident  in  the  night."  * 

Very  significant  are  Misson's  instructions  to  travelers, 
which,  by  the  way,  are  repeated  almost  word  for  word  in 
Coghlan's  "Handbook  for  Italy,"  (p.  iii),  published  in 
1847 :  "A  traveller  ought  always  to  be  furnished  with  some 
iron  machine  to  shut  his  door  on  the  inside,  which  may  be 
easily  contrived  and  made  of  several  sorts;  for  it  happens 



not  unfrequently  that  the  doors  of  the  lodging  houses  have 
neither  locks  nor  bolts."  ' 

Berchtold  admonishes  tourists  in  1787:  "Familiarity 
with  fellow  travellers  beyond  a  certain  degree  is  very  im- 
prudent, and  may  sometimes  produce  dreadful  conse- 
quences; never  ask  another  man's  name,  the  motive  of  his 
travelling,  the  time  he  intends  to  continue  in  a  place ;  and 
if  you  observe  that  people  wish  to  know  your  concerns, 
answer  them  with  circumspection,  in  such  a  manner  as  may 
make  them  give  up  their  curiosity  without  being  offended.  "^ 

But,  as  already  remarked,  notwithstanding  an  occasional 
highway  robbery,  the  British  tourist  in  general  suffered  very 
little  loss  or  personal  injury.  Yet  the  tradition  of  Italian 
bandits  maintained  itself  throughout  the  century  and  al- 
most down  to  our  own  time.  Unquestionably,  there  were 
in  the  aggregate  a  good  many  desperadoes  who  turned  to 
robbery,  and  even  murder,  if  necessary,  as  the  easiest  way 
of  making  a  living;  but  as  a  rule  the  danger  was  not  suffi- 
cient to  justify  even  a  timid  traveler  in  staying  at  home. 
Just  as  in  our  day  the  number  of  brigands  in  Sicily  has 
varied  with  the  price  of  sulphur,  so  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury the  number  of  robbers  along  the  roads  increased  or 
diminished  according  to  the  general  poverty  of  the  coun- 
try and  the  laxity  of  the  government.  There  was  naturally 
wide  difference  in  the  degree  of  danger  to  be  encountered 
in  different  parts  of  the  country. 


In  all  parts  of  Europe  tourists  were  hampered  in  varying 
measure  by  antiquated  official  regulations  that  had  come 
down  from  the  Middle  Ages.  Judged  by  liberal  modem 
standards,  eighteenth-century  administration  appears 
stiffly  bureaucratic  and  strangely  lacking  in  breadth  of 
view.  The  modem  traveler  now  and  then  feels  slightly 
annoyed  when  he  is  obliged  at  a  German,  and  occasionally 
at  a  French,  hotel  to  give  his  name,  address,  occupation, 
the  name  of  the  place  he  has  come  from,  and  of  the  place  to 



which  he  is  going.  But  the  annoyance  in  our  day  is  trivial 
beside  that  to  which  the  traveler  of  a  century  and  a  half  ago 
was  subjected.  From  the  moment  that  he  landed  on  the 
Continent  he  had  the  uncomfortable  feeling  of  being 
watched.  Everywhere  he  was  liable  to  the  pottering  in- 
quisitiveness  of  petty  officials  disposed  to  magnify  their 
office.  Perpetual  presentation  of  evidence  that  one  was 
one's  self,  and  not  a  dangerous  criminal  or  an  escaped  politi- 
cal conspirator,  was  the  rule.  For  his  own  peace  the  t(5ur- 
ist  was,  therefore,  quite  as  solicitous  to  carry  satisfactory 
identification  papers  as  he  was  to  carry  a  full  purse.  The 
interference  with  the  freedom  of  travelers  was  practically 
universal  and  unremitting,  though,  of  course,  more  annoying 
in  times  of  war  than  of  peace.  The  police  thereby  doubtless 
easily  kept  an  eye  upon  strangers,  but  in  periods  of  tran- 
quillity the  outlay  of  time  and  money  for  this  purpose 
seems  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  benefits  obtained. 

Suspicion  and  jealousy  of  strangers  were  only  too  com- 
mon in  days  when  a  special  effort  was  required  in  order  to 
go  anywhere;  and  suspicion  was  the  greater  when  one 
conversed  in  a  foreign  tongue.  Accordingly,  frequent 
registration,  and  application  for  licenses  to  do  this  or  that, 
are  among  the  most  characteristic  experiences  of  travelers 
in  the  eighteenth  century.  Whenever  one  left  Paris  or 
Rome  or  Vienna  the  same  tedious  formalities  must  be  gone 
through.  The  passport  must  be  visaed  by  the  proper 
official  and  the  fee  paid.  Time  that  was  desired  for  busi- 
ness or  sight-seeing  must  be  sacrificed  in  order  that  the 
suspicions  of  the  government  might  be  satisfied.  Trav- 
elers of  all  types  agree  that  the  passport  was  an  unending 
nuisance.  Not  merely  had  the  precious  docvunent  in  many 
cases  to  be  surrendered,  but  it  could  not  be  recovered  with- 
out the  payment  of  a  fee. 

Unpleasant  as  conditions  were  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, they  were  infinitely  worse  in  the  seventeenth.  When 
Coryate  landed  at  Calais,  he  tells  us:  "Presently  after 
my  arrival,  I  was  brought  with  the  rest  of  my  company 
to  the   Deputy  Governor  of  the  towne.  ,  .  .  For  it  is 



the  custome  of  the  towne,  that  whensoever  any  strangers 
arrive  there,  they  are  brought  before  the  Deputy  Gov- 
ernor, to  the  end  to  be  examined  about  the  occasion 
of  their  comming  thither,  whither  they  travell,  and  to 
have  their  names  inrolled  before  they  go  to  their  lodg- 
ing.' .  .  .  They  have  a  very  strict  order  in  this  towne, 
that  if  any  stranger  of  what  Nation  soever  he  be,  shall 
be  taken  walking  by  himself,  either  towards  their  Fort- 
resse,  which  they  call  the  Rice-banke,  or  about  the  greene 
of  the  towne,  he  shall  be  apprehended  by  some  Soul- 
diers,  and  carried  to  the  Deputy  Governor,  and  com- 
mitted to  safe  custody  till  he  hath  paid  some  fee  for  his 
ransome."  ^ 

In  1 64 1,  Evelyn  was  thus  held  up  at  Lillo  on  his  way 
to  Antwerp:  "Being  taken  before  the  Governor,  he  de- 
manded my  pass,  to  which  he  set  his  hand,  and  asked 
two  rix-dollars  for  a  fee,  which  methought  appeared 
very  exorbitant  in  a  soldier  of  his  quality.  I  told  him 
that  I  had  already  purchased  my  pass  of  the  commis- 
saries at  Rotterdam;  at  which,  in  a  great  fury,  snatch- 
ing the  paper  out  of  my  hand,  he  flung  it  scornfully  under 
the  table,  and  bade  me  try  whether  I  could  get  to  Ant- 
werp without  his  permission:  but  I  had  no  sooner  given 
him  the  dollars,  than  he  returned  the  passport  surlily 
enough,  and  made  me  pay  fourteen  Dutch  shillings 
to  the  cantone,  or  searcher,  for  my  contempt,  which  I 
was  glad  to  do  for  fear  of  further  trouble,  lest  he  should 
have  discovered  my  Spanish  pass,  in  which  the  States 
were  therein  treated  by  the  name  of  rebels.  Besides  all 
these  exactions  I  gave  the  commissary  six  shillings,  to 
the  soldiers  something,  and,  ere  perfectly  clear  of  this 
frontier,  thirty-one  stivers  to  the  man-of-war,  who  lay 
blocking  up  the  river  betwixt  Lillo  and  the  opposite 
sconce  called  Lifkinshoeck."' 

This  treatment,  we  must  remember,  was  not  given  to 
a  humble  laborer,  but  to  a  man  of  substance  and  recog- 
nized social  position.  And  similar  incidents  could  be 
multiplied   indefinitely.      The    eighteenth   century   kept 



onoii.uh  of  the  old  ospioiiai^o  to  put  the  tourist  to  much  iti- 
ootivonionco.  Iti  Frnntv.  Carr  atui  his  conipatiiou  were 
mwr  boiug  dotainoil  a  wivk  because  the  latter  haii  broui^ht 
no  pass.'  And  this,  more  than  a  eetitnry  and  a  half  after 
Evelyn's  experience. 

In  !-io  country,  however,  that  tom^ists  commonly  visited 
were  registration  and  presetUatiiM\  of  evidcTico  of  one's 
idei\tity  so  continual  an  annoyaiice  as  in  Italy.*  Nui^ent 
forewarns  the  tourist:  "In  travellini:  thro'  Italy  \*ou 
should  be  careful  not  to  be  without  the  passport  of  some 
prince,  ambassador,  or  cardinal,  by  which  means  you 
will  pass  immolested  thro'  every  city  and  fortified  town; 
and.  what  is  extremely  convenient,  if  the  customs-otricers 
should  want  to  see  your  baj^5::ai::e,  showinj::  your  pass- 
port, you  are  exempt  from  any  kind  of  duty.  Another 
advantai^e  of  these  passports  is  that  on  the  confines  of 
neii^hbourinj:  states  they  are  looked  upon  as  a  bill  of 
health,  if  it  be  not  lost  thro'  fori^et fulness.  It  is  to  be 
observed,  however,  that  those  who  have  not  a  passport 
must  take  a  bill  of  health  at  I>olot;Tia  to  enter  the  Grand 
Duke's  territories,  otheri^'isc  they  will  be  obli.ijcd  to  re- 
turn to  Boloi^na." ' 

At  Genoa,  we  are  told.  "When  atu'  person  arrives  here, 
he  must  either  v:o  himself,  or  send  his  own  servant,  to 
the  town-house,  to  s::ive  in  his  name,  country,  and  station 
of  life.  lie  then  receives  a  billet,  without  which  the  people 
of  the  inn  cannot  answer  letting  him  lie  in  the  house."  * 
So,  too.  at  Ferr:ira,  "Strani^ers  must  have  a  note  from 
the  townihouse  before  they  can  be  admitted  to  lie  in  a  pub- 
lic house."  * 

On  entering  Lucca,  says  Wright,  "At  the  gate  the 
otTicers  took  all  the  fire-lu^ns  we  had  in  their  custody, 
and  gave  us  a  tally  for  restoring  them  at  our  going  away: 
they  likewise  gave  us  a  billet  to  be  delivered  to  the 
landlord  at  the  inn.  without  which  he  could  not  receive 
us."  " 

"^M\ile  the  Papal  Govemn\ent  continued  it  was  nec- 
essary, on  lea\'ing  Florence  for  Rome,   to  have,  besides 



a  pasr;port,  a  /a.vaa  pa.^sare  for  the  c*ntrancc  of  the  Roman 
state  and  another  for  the  J^jrta  del  Popolo."  ' 

One  needed  a  Neapolitan  passport  in  order  to  yo  frr^m 
Rome  to  Naples  and  another  —  to  be  [procured  at  Naj^les 
—  in  order  to  return.^ 

In  Germany,  one's  passport  was  constantly  demanded. 
One  could  not  land  at  Ma;ylebur;(  from  an  Elbe  vessel 
until  one's  identity  was  established.^  At  Colo^^ne  a  stranger 
was  interrogated  with  great  thoroughness.  Here,  as 
late  as  1794,  Cogan  remarks:  "Having  thus  j^assed  a 
severe  examination  at  the  outward  gate,  we  were  per- 
mitted by  the  guardian  genius  of  the  second  enclosure 
to  enter  the  holy  city  without  any  official  enquiries."  * 
The  same  formality  was  encountered,  with  varying  de- 
tail, throughout  the  Empire. 

To  get  out  of  a  country  was  almost  as  difficnjlt  as  to 
get  into  it.  In  April  of  1762,  Sterne  had  to  go  "to  Ver- 
sailles to  solicit  the  necessary  passports  from  the  Duke 
of  Choiseul."  ^'  In  1773,  a  tourist,  wishing  to  leave  Paris, 
had  to  do  the  following:  "The  day  before  I  left  Paris 
I  was  fully  employed  in  hiring  a  coach,  for  which  I  gave 
six  guineas  to  M.  Paschall,  in  obtaining  an  order  from 
the  Po::t-Master  General  to  be  furnir-:hed  on  the  road  with 
six  horses,  in  getting  a  passport  from  our  Ambassador  to 
return  without  molestation,  and  in  obtaining  another 
pa:;sport  signed  by  the  King  of  France  and  counter- 
signed by  the  Duke  of  Choiseul,  to  permit  a  poor  English- 
man to  return  to  his  own  country,  after  having  spent  all 
the  money  he  had  ?.»rought  with  him."  •■' 

"Without  a  pa:-:sport  one  could  not  go  out  of  Paris 
with  post-horses.  And  it  was  the  same  with  the  garri- 
son and  frontier  cities  of  the  kingdom,  where  an  order 
of  the  commandant  or  the  royal  lieutenant  of  the  place 
was  required."  '  Application  to  a  municipal  ofilcer  in- 
stead of  to  one's  ambassador  merely  postponed  one's 
departure  from  Paris.  "vSeveral  EngHshmen,"  :says 
Carr,  "whilst  I  was  at  Paris,  met  with  very  vexatious 
delays  in  procuring  their  passports  to  enable  them  to 



leave  it,  from  a  mistaken  course  of  application."  *  We 
might  multiply  similar  experiences  of  the  tourist  in  other 
parts  of  the  Continent,'  but  there  is  nothing  gained  by 
the  rcpetitioti. 

Let  us  turn  to  another  official  document  of  almost 
equal  importance  —  the  bill  of  health.  Well  meant,  and 
doubtless  in  some  sense  necessary,  was  the  bill  of  health, 
which  indicated  that  the  traveler  was  not  likely  to  be  a 
carrier  of  disease.  This  was  an  old  requirement  wlMch 
was  long  continued.  Says  Coryate,  early  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  "At  Lj'ons  our  billes  of  health  began: 
without  the  which  we  could  not  be  received  into  any  of 
those  cities  that  lay  in  our  way  towards  Italy.  For  the 
Italians  are  so  curious  and  scnxpulous  in  many  of  their 
cities,  especially  those  that  I  passed  through  in  Lom- 
bardy,  that  they  will  admit  no  stranger  \A'ithin  the  waJs 
of  their  citie,  except  he  bringeth  a  bill  of  health  from 
the  last  citie  he  came  from,  to  testify  that  he  was  free 
from  all  manner  of  contagious  sicknesse  when  he  came 
from  the  last  citie.  But  the  Venetians  are  extraordin- 
arily precise  herein,  insomuch  that  a  man  cannot  be 
received  into  Venice  \\'ithout  a  bill  of  health,  if  he  would 
give  a  thousand  duckets.  But  the  like  strictnesse  I  did 
not  observe  in  those  cities  of  Lombardy,  through  the 
which  I  passed  in  my  retume  from  Venice  homeward. 
For  they  received  me  into  Vicenza,  Verona,  Brixia,  Ber- 
gomo,  etc.,  without  any  such  bill."  ' 

Later  tourists  frequently  make  reference  to  the  cer- 
tificate of  health  that  each  was  obliged  to  carry.*  "When 
you  depart  from  any  city,"  says  Ray,  "you  must  be  sure 
to  take  a  bill  of  health  out  of  the  office  that  is  kept  every- 
where for  that  purpose,  without  which  you  can  hardly 
get  to  be  admitted  into  another  city,  especially  if  it  be 
in  the  territory  of  another  prince  or  state.  If  any  one 
comes  from  an  infected  or  suspected  place,  he  is  forced 
to  keep  his  quarantain  (as  they  call  it)  that  is,  be  shut 
up  in  the  Lazaretto  or  pest-house  forty  days."  * 

For   the   eighteenth   century',    Nugent   testifies   to   the 



same  requirements.  "Coming  back  [to  Italy]  from  Ger- 
many this  way"  (i.e.,  through  Carinthia  and  Styria),  "you 
must  be  provided  with  a  passport  of  health,  otherwise 
you  will  be  forced  to  go  back,  or  obliged  to  perform  quar- 
antine for  forty  days."  ' 

"We  left  Ravenna,"  says  Wright,  "with  a  double 
fede  (or  testimonial),  one  to  certify  that  we  were  well, 
the  other  that  we  were  sick;  the  former,  on  account  of 
their  fear  of  the  plague,  to  get  us  entrance  into  their 
cities;  and  the  other,  (it  being  Lent,)  to  get  us  some  grasso 
(flesh-meat)  in  the  inns."  ^ 

In  view  of  the  laxity  with  which  the  certificates  of  health 
were  issued,  the  insistence  of  some  towns  upon  compli- 
ance with  every  official  formality  appears  sufficiently 
ridiculous.  At  Lucca,  adds  Wright,  "we  were  forced 
to  have  not  only  ourselves  and  servants,  but  our  horses 
and  our  dog  specified  in  onr  fede."  ^ 

However  unintelligent  in  actual  operation  some  of 
these  regulations  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  cen- 
turies appear  to  us,  they  were  the  outcome  of  a  whole- 
some terror  of  the  ravages  of  the  plague  and  various 
other  types  of  disease  that  were  only  too  common.  In- 
deed, to  the  man  of  to-day  the  greatest  peril  of  the  tour 
would  seem  to  be  the  constant  exposure  to  unsanitary 
conditions,  to  damp,  ill-heated  houses,  to  improper  food, 
to  nameless  dirt.  In  many  cities,  partictilarly  in  Italy, 
the  streets  were  unspeakably  filthy  when  they  were  wet 
and  full  of  pestilent  clouds  of  dust  when  they  were  dry. 
The  Doge's  Palace  at  Venice  was  made  a  very  sty  by  the 
constant  defilement  of  the  entrance  and  the  corridors.* 
The  same  was  true  of  public  buildings  and  even  churches 
throughout  the  peninsula.^  Even  yet  the  sense  of  de- 
cency in  many  parts  of  Italy  is  only  rudimentary  among  the 
lower  classes.  Until  within  two  or  three  decades  many 
of  the  most  frequented  countries  of  Europe  have  been 
strangely  slow  in  adopting  modem  sanitary  appliances. 
And  to  this  day  a  good  number  of  somewhat  pretentious 
hostelries  in  France,  to  say  nothing  of  Spain,  put  a  severe 




strain  upon  the  patience  of  tourists  not  too  fastidious. 
As  may  be  supposed,  the  water-supply  was  in  most  towns 
a  constant  source  of  danger.  Paris  and  Venice  had  an 
especially  bad  reputation  in  this  particular.' 

Obviously,  the  certification  of  the  harmlessness  of  the 
tourist  necessitated  a  constant  interruption  of  his  jour- 
ney. But  there  were  hindrances  of  another  sort.  Even 
when  one's  official  papers  were  all  in  order,  one  had  to 
make  allowance  for  the  possibility  of  arriving  too  l^e 
at  night  for  admittance  into  a  town.  Police  regulations 
were  strict,  often  peculiar  to  the  district,  and  therefore 
difficult  to  know  in  advance.  Most  cities  of  any  size 
were  walled  and  the  gates  generally  shut  at  nightfall. 
After  that  time  entrance  was  difficult,  if  not  impossible. 
Matters  had  improved  somewhat  since  Fynes  Moryson's 
time,  when,  even  at  dinner  time,  the  gates  of  Dresden 
were  shut  and  the  streets  chained.^  But  eighteenth- 
century  tourists  constantly  refer  to  the  closing  of  the 
gates  at  nightfall  as  a  matter  of  course.'  Says  Dr.  Moore: 
"We  left  Milan  at  midnight,  and  arrived  the  next  day 
at  Tiuin  before  the  shutting  of  the  gates."  * 

When  going  to  Rotterdam,  James  Edward  Smith  and 
liis  party  had  taken  a  gorgeous  coach  "lined  with  red 
velvet  and  drawn  by  three  horses  abreast."  On  their 
arrival  "the  gates  were  shut,"  and  they  "were  obliged 
to  seek  a  lodging  in  the  suburbs;  nor  was  that  easy  to  be 
had.  .  .  .  The  manner,  indeed,  of  the  Dutch  in  general 
is  quite  opposite  to  what  the  French  call  accucillante."^ 
Facts  of  this  sort  may  now  and  then  explain  the  appar- 
ent indifference  of  travelers  to  notable  sights  along'  the 
road  or  in  small  towns:  they  are  merely  trying  in  their 
haste  to  escape  a  night  of  exposure  outside  the  gates. 

If  we  were  to  place  the  discussion  of  eighteenth-century 
custom-houses  along  with  the  discussion  of  robberies, 
we  should  doubtless  follow  what,  in  the  opinion  of  many 



tourists  of  that  time,  would  appear  to  be  a  natural  order. 
Throughout  the  greater  part  of  Europe  a  narrow-minded 
policy  of  commercial  exchange  hampered  the  free  move- 
ment of  merchandise  across  frontiers.  Where  a  country- 
was  split  up  into  a  variety  of  unrelated  governments, 
each  insisting  upon  its  rights,  foreign  commerce  obviously 
suffered  in  proportion  to  the  restrictions  laid  upon  it.^ 
The  personal  belongings  of  the  tourist  were  treated  in 
much  the  same  way  as  all  merchandise. 

Numerous  passages  in  eighteenth-century  books  of 
travel  comment  upon  the  ever-recurring  examination 
of  the  travelers'  personal  luggage.  This  is,  even  now, 
no  special  pleasure,  but  a  century  and  a  half  ago  it  was 
an  endless  vexation,  often  involving  the  entire  repacking 
of  one's  effects  —  in  so  far  as  they  were  not  confiscated 
—  and  the  payment  of  heavy  duties.  One  could  often 
escape  by  bribing  the  officials,  but  that  put  some  strain 
upon  a  sensitive  conscience.  Yet  without  some  such 
help  one  was  liable  to  be  held  up  for  hours,  while  the 
contents  of  trunks  and  portmanteaus  were  spread  over 
the  ground  at  the  pleasiire  of  the  officials.  In  view  of  the 
liability  to  confiscation  tourists  were  warned;  "Since  it 
is  impossible  to  know  what  goods  are  forbidden  in  dif- 
ferent countries,  information  on  that  head  should  be 
had  before  foreigners  enter  into  another  territory,  in 
order  to  avoid  many  inconveniences  which  might  arrive 
from  trifles:  in  some  countries  the  whole  luggage  is  con- 
fiscated if  prohibited  goods  are  found  with  them,  and 
the  owners  condemned  to  imprisonment,  or  to  pay  a 
heavy  fine."  ^ 

Very  illuminating  is  the  advice  as  to  the  amount  and 
character  of  the  luggage  a  traveler  should  carry.  The 
"expence  of  the  carriage  of  it  ...  in  some  countries 
amounts,"  we  are  told,  "to  much  more  than  the  passage 
of  his  person  and  servant."  ^  If  the  stage-coach  or  dil- 
igence was  too  heavily  loaded,  part  of  the  luggage  was 
left  behind,  and  the  traveler  got  it  again  when  he  could! 
And,  finally,  travelers  were  "frequently  charged"  at  the 



inns  "accordinj::  to  the  quantity  of  ba^.ciagc  and  con- 
veniences" they  carried  with  them.*  "For  going  any 
distance  short  and  high  trunks  are  preferable  to  long 
and  low  ones;  because  they  can  be  put  upon  any  car- 
riage whatever.  The  solidity  of  a  trunk  is  also  one  of 
its  necessary  qualities,  it  being  sometimes  most  unmer- 
cifully handled  by  the  Custom-House  ollicers.  Travel- 
lers should  never  pennit  revenue  officers  to  visit  two 
trunks  at  the  same  time,  as  the  owner's  eyes  and  atten- 
tion may  be  fixed  on  one,  at  the  great  hazard  of  his  being 
pillaged  by  the  other."  ' 

We  can  attempt  no  systematic  account  of  the  customs 
regulations  in  different  countries,  but  we  may  cite  a  few 
typical  cases,  and  may  well  begin  with  the  ordinary  e.\- 
perience  of  the  tourist  landing  at  Calais.  This  is  pre- 
sented in  considerable  detail  in  the  most  popular  guide- 
book of  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century:  "Upon 
approaching  the  town,  you  see  several  batteries  of  cannon 
planted  on  the  shore,  to  keep  the  coast  clear  in  war  time. 
Coming  ashore,  you'll  meet  with  men-waiters  who  speak 
English,  and  make  it  their  business  to  ply  there,  on  Eng- 
lish vessels  coming  in,  and  who  will  conduct  you  and 
attend  you  in  Calais,  till  you  have  got  into  your  post- 
chaise  for  Paris.  Having  pitched  upon  one  of  these,  you 
are  conducted  by  a  soldier  upon  the  guard,  which  is  al- 
ways mounted  upon  the  quay,  to  a  searching  oflicc  just 
by,  where  you  must  give  in  your  name  and  quality,  the 
purpose  of  your  coming  over,  and  intended  tour:  thence 
you  are  shown  into  a  small  inner  room  and  very  ci\'ily 
searched  by  the  proper  officer,  who  only  just  presses 
upon  your  coat-pockets  or  outer  garments;  aftenvards 
the  soldier  conducts  you  to  the  governor's  house,  where 
you  are  shewn  to  the  governor.  When  this  farce  is  over, 
you  are  at  liberty  to  proceed  to  your  inn,  whither  you 
are  attended  by  the  person  or  servant  whom  you  pitched 
upon  at  the  water-side.  There  are  several  good  inns 
at  Calais,  as  the  Golden  Anns,  the  Golden  Head,  the 
French  Horn,  the  Table  Roval,  and  the  Silver  Lion,  the 



last  of  which,  kept  by  Grandsirc,  is  reckoned  the  best. 
When  you  have  refreshed  yourself,  you  had  best  ^o  your- 
self to  the  custom-house,  where  you  will  find  your  bag- 
Kaj^e  has  been  carried  by  porters  from  the  vessel,  and  will 
be  there  searched,  to  prevent  your  brin^in;:^  in  anything 
new  of  a  foreign  manufacture.  They  allow  only  one  watch 
to  each  person,  and  if  they  find  any  new  cloathes,  they 
will  stop  them.  After  your  baggage  has  been  searched, 
you  had  better  have  your  trunk  plum?jed  with  a  leaden 
stamp  for  Paris;  for  this  will  prevent  the  trouble  of  any 
further  search  of  your  baggage  upon  the  road,  or  its 
being  carried  to  the  custom-house  when  you  come  to 
Paris:  but  you  must  take  care  not  to  open  the  custom- 
house cordage  and  plumbing  till  you  get  to  that  metrop- 
olis; for  on  going  out  of  Calais,  and  at  several  other  gar- 
ison  towns,  both  your  Calais  custom-house  pass  (which 
they  give  you  in  writing  and  which  you  must  take  care 
of)  and  also  the  plumbing  of  your  trunk  are  examined. 
Therefore  your  best  way  is  to  take  out  at  the  custom- 
house at  Calais  what  necessaries  you  may  want  on  the 
road.  The  fees  at  the  custom-house  for  the  pass,  for 
your  cloathes  and  necessaries,  and  for  the  plumbing 
your  trunks  are  very  trifling;  but  if  they  arc  civil  and  do 
not  tumble  your  cloathes,  it  is  customary  to  give  the 
ofTicer  half  a  crown.  The  porters  who  carry  your  goods 
from  the  ship  to  the  custom-house,  and  from  the  cus- 
tom-house to  the  inn,  arc  like  our  watermen,  never  satis- 
fied; about  a  livre  for  carrying  each  trunk  will  pay  them; 
and  three  livres  when  you  get  into  your  post-chaise,  will 
be  sufTicient  for  your  attendant,  who  keeps  close  to  you 
till  you  are  gone,  and  shows  you  anything  the  town  affords, 
which  is  but  indifferent. "  * 

In  France  duties  were  "laid  on  all  kinds  of  merchandise 
either  brought  in  or  carried  out  of  the  kingdom,  and  aLso 
on  the  import  and  export  from  and  to  the  provinces."  ^ 
Besides  these  there  were  octroi  charges  on  many  articles 
collected  at  the  gates  of  cities.^  But  oftentimes  the  cus- 
toms officials  were  not  averse  to  increasing  their  incomes 



by  politely  failing  to  discover  dutiable  articles.  "We 
were  stopt,"  says  Essex,  "as  we  were  going  out  of  the  Gates 
of  Calis  by  the  Custom-house  Officers  who  wanted  to 
search  our  baggage,  but  seeing  a  12  sou  piece  in  our  valet's 
hand,  they  turned  their  attention  that  way  and  suffered 
us  to  pass."  ' 

On  Smollett's  return  to  France  from  Italy  in  1766,  he 
notes:  "As  for  our  small  trunks  or  portmanteaus,  which 
we  carried  along  with  us,  they  were  examined  at  Antibes; 
but  the  ceremony  was  performed  very  superficially,  in 
consequence  of  tipping  the  searcher  with  half  a  crown,  which 
is  a  wonderful  conciliator  at  all  the  bureaus  in  this  coun- 
try." 2 

James  Edward  Smith  remarks  at  Lyons:  "Our  trunks 
passed  the  custom-house  for  a  little  gratuity  unopened, 
which  is  generally  the  best  way."  '  In  general,  the  officials 
on  the  Savoy  frontier  were  very  lenient,  notes  the  Abbe 
Coyer  in  1775.* 

But  it  is  time  to  turn  to  Italy.  The  number  of  separate 
governments  in  the  peninsula  rendered  the  tourist  liable 
to  frequent  inspection,*  although,  as  Nugent  observes, 
"In  travelling  thro'  Italy  .  .  .  what  is  extremely  con- 
venient, if  the  custom-officers  should  want  to  see  your 
baggage,  showing  your  passport,  you  are  exempted  from 
any  kind  of  duty."  ^ 

A  still  better  plan,  apart  from  the  inconvenience  of 
having  no  use  of  one's  extra  clothing  and  other  possessions, 
was  to  seal  up  the  luggage  and  thus  escape  further  visi- 
tation at  the  successive  custom-houses.  This  is  repeatedly 
recommended  by  tourists  in  France,  in  Italy,  in  Germany,  in 
the  Austrian  Low  Countries.'  Even  individual  cities  re- 
tained the  right  to  search  everything  unsealed  that  passed 
through  the  gates.^  Of  Pistoia,  for  example,  Northall 
remarks:  "At  the  port  gate  of  the  town  they  search  all 
baggage,  to  see  if  there  is  any  tobacco ;  and  if  they  find  any 
quantity  above  a  pound  they  seize  everything.  They  also 
seize  all  such  apparel  that  has  not  been  worn ;  at  least  they 
oblige  strangers  to  pay  duty  for  it,  if  only  a  pair  of  shoes."  ^ 



We  cannot  afford  space  for  much  detail,  but  we  note  that 
in  Keysler's  day  certain  cities  had  an  especially  evil  repu- 
tation for  the  venality  of  the  customs  officials :  ' '  The  cus- 
toms and  duties  are  nowhere  on  so  bad  a  footing  as  at 
Milan;  a  small  gratuity  to  the  officers,  who  importunately 
ask  it,  puts  an  end  to  all  further  search  and  questions; 
whereas,  in  Piedmont,  the  extreme  severity  on  this  head 
often  puts  travellers  to  a  great  deal  of  unnecessary  delay 
and  trouble."  ' 

As  for  Rome,  the  goal  of  nearly  every  tourist,  the  cus- 
toms examination  afforded  no  special  annoyance,^  except 
that  one  must  drive  at  once  to  the  dogana  before  going  to 
the  inn  and  submit  to  a  search  for  prohibited  books.' 
Travelers  occasionally  complain  of  the  severity  with  which 
their  books  and  papers  were  scrutinized.  Says  a  tourist 
in  174 1 :  "It  was  impracticable  for  us  to  keep  a  journal  in  a 
country  where  our  papers  and  books  were  so  often  liable  to 
be  looked  into  by  bigotted  inquisitors."  * 

On  the  land  journey  from  Rome  to  Naples  the  ordinary 
tourist  was  little  troubled.  James  Edward  Smith's  party 
escaped  unexamined  by  paying  a  shabby-looking  official  a 
bribe  worth  a  shilling.^  But  upon  merchandise  in  any 
quantity  the  tariffs  imposed  a  heavy  burden,  written,  as 
they  were,  "in  an  unintelligible  and  ambiguous  jargon, 
variable  according  to  the  caprice  and  greed  of  the  col- 
lectors." ^ 

The  return  journey  to  Rome  from  Naples  was  more  an- 
noying, especially  during  the  first  half-day,  since  tourists 
were  supposed  to  be  laden  with  commodities  of  Naples  — 
particularly  silk  stockings — which  should  pay  export  duties. 
Bromley  was  stopped  six  or  seven  times  for  examinations, 
but  a  small  bribe  cooled  the  zeal  of  the  inspectors.'' 

In  striking  contrast  with  the  niggling  inquisitiveness  in 
some  parts  of  Italy  was  the  laxity  of  the  examination  at 
Venice.  Even  late  in  the  seventeenth  century  Burnet 
notes  with  amazement:  "Tho'  we  had  a  mullet's^  load 
of  trunks  and  portmanteaus,  yet  none  offered  to  ask  us, 
either  coming  or  going,  what  we  were  or  what  we  carried 



with  us."*  And  Misson  tells  the  same  tale:  "The  toll- 
gatherers  saw  us  enter  into  the  Lagiinas  without  speaking 
one  word  to  us,  tho'  we  had  a  considerable  quantity  of 
baggage;  but  in  other  parts  of  Italy  the  tolls  are  very 
frequent  and  troublesome."  ' 

With  Venice  we  may  conclude  our  rapid  survey  of  Italian 
custom-houses.  On  summarizing  the  experiences  of  tour- 
ists we  find  that  beyond  an  occasional  petty  exaction  or 
confiscation  one  suffered  no  more  actual  loss  in*  passing 
through  the  custom-houses  of  Italy  than  in  some  other  parts 
of  Europe.  But  the  multiplication  of  frontiers  subjected 
every  passing  stranger  to  frequent  delay  and  annoyance 
and  habituated  him  to  the  belief  that  every  small  official 
could  be  bought. 

We  now  turn  to  Germany.  The  frequency  of  the  chal- 
lenge of  custom-house  officials  was  one  of  the  least  pleas- 
urable experiences  of  travel  in  Germany.  As  elsewhere 
observed,  Germany  had  a  vast  number  of  petty  govern- 
ments, each  practically  independent  and  each  legally  war- 
ranted in  imposing  an}""  duties  it  pleased.  If  this  right  had 
been  pushed  to  the  limit,  travel  and  commerce  would  have 
been  practically  impossible.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  tour- 
ist, proxnded  with  a  passport  and  obviously  not  a  merchant, 
escaped  with  comparative  immunity.  Misson,  indeed,  says 
that  in  his  day  "Travellers  are  not  stopped  on  account 
of  customs  or  imposts,  either  in  Holland  or  Germany."  ^ 
But  later  tourists  tell  a  somewhat  different  talc.''  Dr.  Moore 
went  to  Vienna,  as  so  many  other  English  tourists  did. 
"On  arriving  at  Vienna,"  says  he,  "the  postillions  drive 
directly  to  the  Custom-house,  where  the  baggage  under- 
goes a  very  severe  scrutiny,  which  neither  fair  words  nor 
money  can  mitigate."^  Books  in  particular  were  retained 
to  be  carefully  scrutinized. 

Baron  Riesbeck,  going  by  way  of  Passau  to  Vienna  about 
a  decade  before  the  outbreak  of  the  French  Revolution,  says : 
"At  Engellhastzell  our  baggage  was  searched.  Every  thing 
was  conducted  in  the  best  order  possible,  and  with  a  great 



deal  of  gentleness;  the  putting  of  the  custom-house  seals 
to  the  merchandise  of  our  vessel  took  up  a  whole  day.  .  .  . 
As  for  me,  the  searchers  directed  their  whole  attention  to  my 
books ;  they  took  away  from  me  Young's  '  Night  Thoughts,' 
which  I  had  purchased  out  of  compassion  from  a  poor 
student  at  Saltzburg,  but  suffered  Gibbon's  'Works'  to 

In  the  last  decade  of  the  century  Mariana  Starke  com- 
plains that  when  she  crossed  the  frontier  of  Carinthia  the 
baggage  was  examined  in  the  open  street  of  a  miserable 
town  and  small  parcels  were  thrown  under  the  coach  by 
the  thievish  officials,  to  be  gathered  up  later.  "They  seize 
gold  and  silver  lace,  snuff,  and  tobacco,  and  for  unmade 
silks,  gauzes,  etc.,  they  oblige  you  to  deposit  double  the 
worth,  to  be  paid  back,  however,  when  you  quit  the  im- 
perial territories.  They  accept  no  fees,  and  are  slower  in 
their  operations  than  it  is  possible  to  conceive."  ^ 

All  in  all,  the  most  enlightened  state  in  Germany  was 
Prussia.  But  the  policy  of  Frederick  the  Great  was  to  in- 
crease exports  as  much  as  possible  and  to  reduce  imports 
to  the  minimum.  In  1766  the  importation  of  four  hundred 
and  ninety  commodities  hitherto  admitted  on  the  payment 
of  heavy  duties  was  absolutely  prohibited.  The  tourist 
incautious  enough  to  be  detected  with  any  of  these  things 
among  his  effects  —  a  bit  of  porcelain,  for  example  —  suf- 
fered accordingly.  And  the  multitude  of  customs  officials 
made  concealment  difficult. 

But  the  region  in  which  the  tourist's  progress  was  most 
interrupted  by  customs  examinations  and  the  collection 
of  tolls  from  vessels,  even  though  he  might  himself  escape 
paying  duties,  was  the  Palatinate  and  the  Valley  of  the 
Rhine.^  In  the  Palatinate,  we  are  told,  "everything  was 
taxed  but  the  air,"  and  all  goods  that  passed  through  were 
subject  to  some  import.  The  Rhine  was  in  particular  the 
paradise  of  the  toll-gatherer.  Tolls  were  "exacted  by 
every  distinct  potentate  and  in  every  distinct  jurisdiction."^ 
Between  Mainz  and  Andemach,  a  distance  of  sixty-three 
English  miles,  there  were  ten  tolls  to  pay.    Tourists  natu- 



rally  enough  express  their  surprise  that,  in  view  of  the  im- 
mense number  of  exactions  of  custom-houses,  the  river 
traffic  was  as  great  as  it  was.^  A  vessel  plying  between  Co- 
logne and  Amsterdam  or  Rotterdam  paid  twelve  tolls  on 
every  trip.^  The  tolls  were  attended  to  by  the  master  of 
the  vessel.  Not  unnaturally,  tourists,  who  had  been  "sub- 
ject from  the  officers  of  the  revenue  to  the  most  disagree- 
able enquiries  and  vexatious  delays"  in  various  despotic 
states  of  Germany,  felt  "a  sensation  peculiarly  agreeable 
on  entering  Hamburg,"  where  they  had  simply  to  give 
their  names  "at  the  gates  without  any  examination  or 
custom-house  embarrassments . ' ' ' 

As  for  the  Austrian  Low  Countries,  the  records  of  tour- 
ists in  the  second  half  of  the  eighteenth  century  show  the 
same  petty  interference  that  we  have  noted  elsewhere. 
As  a  typical  instance,  take  the  experience  of  James  Essex, 
a  very  respectable  English  tourist,  who  in  1773  crossed  the 
frontier  of  the  Low  Coimtries  at  Dunkerque:  "When  we 
came  to  the  first  Barrier  about  halfe  a  mile  from  the  City, 
we  were  stopt  by  the  Custom  house  Officer  and  paid  6  d.  to 
avoid  a  search,  when  we  entered  the  Gates  we  were  stopt 
by  the  Guard  and  obliged  to  write  our  names  and  the  place 
of  our  abode,  which  was  sent  to  the  Governor."  ^  At 
Nieuport,  says  he,  "we  met  with  some  trouble  from  the 
Custom  house  Officers  who  in  our  absence  open'd  every 
part  of  our  baggage  &  tumbled  all  our  things  in  a  disagree- 
able manner."  ^  At  Ghent  we  "were  stopt  at  the  Gate  by 
the  Custom  house  officers  to  examine  our  baggage  and  by 
the  Guard  to  give  in  our  names  to  be  sent  to  the  Governor."  ^ 

Another  totuist,  who  was  on  the  Continent  between  1787 
and  1789,  complains  that  at  Ostend,  "Everything  was 
thrown  into  beautiful  confusion,  and  besides  half-a-crown 
for  three  yards  of  small  cord,  and  two  leaden  seals  about 
the  size  of  a  half -penny,  I  was  sentenced  to  pay  one  shilling 
and  sixpence  for  two  pairs  of  unwashed  stockings.  My 
new  shoes  escaped  taxation  by  putting  them  on  in  presence 
of  the  inquisitors."  ' 

In  comparison  with  other  parts  of  Europe  tourists  in 



Holland  enjoyed  comparative  immunity  from  annoyance 
at  the  custom-house,  a  policy  in  harmony  with  the  liberal 
views  of  the  Dutch  on  a  multitude  of  other  matters  in  the 
eighteenth  century. 

Far  less  agreeable  was  the  reception  that  the  returning 
tourist  met  at  Dover.  After  he  had  traversed  most  of  Eu- 
rope and  his  heart  beat  faster  as  he  neared  his  native  land, 
his  enthusiasm  was  chilled  and  his  temper  embittered  by 
the  exactions  at  the  custom-house.  An  instance  or  two 
will  suffice.  Horace  Walpole  paid  a  duty  of  seven  and  a 
half  guineas  on  "a  common  set  of  coffee  things  that  had 
cost  me  but  five."'  On  November  ii,  1764,  the  Right 
Honorable  Thomas  Townshend  writes  to  George  Selwyn: 
"The  strictness  of  the  Custom-House  officers  still  con- 
tinues. Mr.  Rigby  brought  one  fine  suit  of  clothes,  which 
he  saved  by  wearing  it  when  he  landed.  Mr.  Elliot  saved 
a  coat  and  waistcoat  by  the  same  means,  but  not  having 
taken  the  same  precautions  for  the  breeches,  they  were 
seized  and  burnt."  ^  And  the  Earl  of  Tyrone,  on  December 
20  of  the  same  year,  in  a  letter  to  Selwyn,  says:  " I  did  not 
recover  my  sea-sickness  enough  to  enable  me  to  obey  your 
commands  from  Dover,  where  we  were  very  well  treated 
by  the  officers  who,  after  having  searched  our  trunks  very 
strictly,  made  every  allowance  which  could  be  reasonably 
expected,  and  did  not  insist  on  confining  us  to  a  single  suit, 
on  seeing  we  had  nothing  which  had  not  been  worn.  .  .  . 
You  must  wear  your  gold,  for  not  even  a  button  will  be 
admitted  o"  ^  The  very  allowance  that  the  genial  earl 
makes  for  the  officials  shows  how  rigorous  the  ordeal  com- 
monly was. 


In  these  days  of  quick  and  easy  transportation  few  places 
are  so  remote  from  civilization  as  to  be  long  deprived  of 
the  ordinary  necessaries  of  life,  or  even  of  luxuries,  if  one 
desires  to  procure  them.  But  a  century  and  a  half  ago 
remoteness  often  meant  privation,  and  this  fact  had  much 
to  do  with  shaping  the  route  of  the  tourist. 



Perhaps  the  most  characteristic  feature  of  English  life 
in  the  eighteenth  century  as  compared  with  the  sixteenth 
was  the  general  increase  in  comfort.  There  had,  indeed, 
been  great  luxury  and  magnificence  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, but  there  had  been  a  strange  lack  of  the  things  that 
in  our  day  appear  indispensable  to  one's  well-being.  In 
these  particulars  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centiuies 
wrought  a  great  change.  Englishmen  in  the  eighteenth 
century  ate  better  and  lived  more  cleanly  than  their  ances- 
tors and  were  accustomed  to  a  higher  standard  of  comfort 
than  was  common  abroad.  English  wealth,  as  we  have 
seen,  was  more  generally  diffused  than  on  the  Continent, 
for  England  was  distinguished  above  France,  Italy,  and 
Germany  by  the  existence  of  a  rich  and  independent 
middle  class. 

This  increase  of  comfort  in  England,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  fact  that  English  travelers  were  not  noted  for  their 
meekness  and  long-suffering,  did  not  make  them  the 
readier  to  put  up  with  privation  and  annoyance  on  their 
pleasure  trips.  But  the  English  tourists  of  the  eighteenth 
century  do  not  appear  to  us  to  set  their  demands  unduly 
high.  They  never  dreamed  of  some  of  the  luxuries  that  to 
wealthy  modem  travelers  have  become  necessities,  and  one 
cannot  go  through  the  long  list  of  trials  that  they  endured 
on  the  Continental  tour  without  being  surprised  that  com- 
plaints were  not  more  numerous  and  more  bitter.  The 
ordinary  mishaps  of  the  road  were  not  few.  Not  seldom 
the  coach  overturned,  the  straps  or,  more  generally,  the 
ropes  of  the  harness  broke,  or  the  carriage  went  to  pieces 
like  the  "one  hoss  shay."  The  English  tourist's  ideal  of 
comfort  was  rudely  disturbed  as  soon  as  he  crossed  the 
Channel.  The  beds  were  not  to  his  liking;  there  was  a  sad 
lack  of  real  cleanliness,  even  though  plates  and  glasses 
might  be  brightly  polished.  He  could  not  get  his  thick 
mutton  chop,  his  cut  of  roast  beef,  or  his  tankard  of  Eng- 
lish ale.  He  snuffed  suspiciously  at  the  strange  and  highly 
seasoned  dishes,  so  different  from  the  unadorned  products  of 
English  cookery — the  fruit  tarts,  the  mutton  pies,  the  plain 



boiled  vegetables.  Nor  did  he  always  adjust  himself  easily 
to  simple  living  unlike  his  own  —  the  macaroni,  the  strong 
cheeses,  the  thin  garlic  soups.  And  before  the  nameless 
messes  offered  at  the  roadside  inn,  even  a  strong  stomach 

In  the  matter  of  housing  the  English  tourist  faced  an- 
other serious  problem.  The  Dowager  Countess  of  Carlisle, 
in  writing  to  Selwyn  from  Montpellier  about  1780,  explains 
that  she  has  succeeded  in  securing  a  house  for  Lord  Warwick 
for  his  summer  residence,  and  adds  that  the  task  "is  always 
a  difficult  one  where  the  EngHsh  are  concerned,  for  they  are 
used,  and  like  to  be  comfortable,  and  must  therefore  pay 
for  it."  ^  But  in  France  and  Italy  and  some  other  parts  of 
Europe  even  lavish  expenditure  did  not  always  secure  com- 
fort in  winter.  For  that  matter,  a  good  part  of  the  Conti- 
nent to  this  day  uses  a  pitifully  small  amount  of  fuel  in 
attempting  to  warm  a  living  apartment  during  the  colder 

It  is,  indeed,  obvious  that  there  was  varied  annoyance 
awaiting  the  traveler  everywhere,  but  it  came  to  a  climax 
in  Italy,  and  this,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Italy  was 
for  many  reasons  the  most  attractive  part  of  Europe  to  the 
tourist.  One  who  has  imagined  that  the  experiences  on  the 
roads  commonly  traveled  in  Italy  were  an  unmixed  delight 
should  read  the  directions  offered  to  travelers  even  as  late 
as  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century ,2  or  the  middle  of  the 
nineteenth  century .^  Lady  Morgan  enumerates  some  of 
the  trials  to  be  expected  in  Italy  a  generation  after  the 
French  Revolution,  and  adds:  "Most  EngHsh  travellers, 
and  indeed  all  persons  of  rank,  escape  a  great  part  of  these 
annoyances,  by  travelling  with  a  courier,  who,  constantly 
in  advance  of  the  carriages,  removes  all  difficulty  by  force 
of  authority  or  of  gold.  We,  however,  purposely  avoided 
the  retaining  this  useful  domestic;  partly  from  economy, 
and  partly  from  a  general  desire  of  coming  as  closely  as 
possible  in  contact  with  a  population  of  whom  we  should 
have  such  frequent  occasion  to  speak.  We  encountered, 
accordingly,  our  full  share  of  the  inconveniences  of  Italian 



travelling;  and  we  speak  as  we  felt,  and  as  the  mass  of  the 
people  must  feel,  who  necessarily  travel  without  couriers."  ^ 


Not  the  least  of  annoyances  to  the  modem  tourist  would 
be  the  inefficiency  of  the  postal  system.  So  accustomed 
are  we  to  the  telegraph,  the  telephone,  and  the  express 
train  that  we  cannot  at  once  realize  the  isolation  of  the 
eighteenth-century  tourist  as  soon  as  he  left  his  own 
land.  By  the  aid  of  the  government  registration  bureaus 
he  could  be  tracked  from  one  town  to  another,  but  un- 
less unusual  effort  was  made  to  follow  him  he  was  speed- 
ily lost  to  view.  Even  if  he  kept  his  friends  at  home 
constantly  informed  by  letter  of  his  whereabouts,  there 
was  ample  time  to  go  to  a  far  distant  region  before  they 
could  get  word  from  him.  It  is  true  that  in  some  parts 
of  Gennany  the  postal  arrangements  were  safe  enough, 
but  they  were  very  slow.  As  for  Italy,  Walpole  says 
in  one  of  his  letters,  "I  am  sorry  to  find  that  it  costs 
about  six  weeks  to  say  a  word  at  Pisa  and  have  an  answer 
in  London."  *  And  this  dawdling  inefficiency  was  pecul- 
iarly striking  in  comparison  with  the  achievements  of 
the  Romans  eighteen  centuries  earlier.  "It  may  be 
doubted  whether  there  existed  in  the  world  in  the  year 
1800  a  postal  service  that  could  compare  in  speed  and 
efficiency  with  the  express  ser\'ice  of  the  time  of  Cn^sar."  ^ 

The  postage  for  letters  was  very  heavy,  —  the  ordi- 
nary charge  was  a  shilling, —  but,  in  Italy  at  all  events, 
one  had  no  assurance  that  they  would  escape  being  opened 
by  prying  officials  or  that  they  would  be  delivered  at  all. 
Lady  Mary  Montagu  repeatedly  complains  that  her 
own  letters  were  tampered  with  in  Italian  cities,*  or  lost 
on  the  way.  Writing  in  1741  from  Ttuin  she  says:  "I  take 
this  opportunity  of  writing  to  you  on  many  subjects  in 
a  freer  manner  than  I  durst  do  by  the  post,  knowing 
that  all  letters  are  opened  both  here  and  in  other  places, 
which  occasions  them   to   be   lost,   besides  other  incon- 



vcnicnccs  that  may  happen."  '  In  another  letter  dated 
thirteen  years  later,  she  says:  "I  am  quite  siek  with 
vexation  at  the  interruption  of  our  eorrespondence.  I 
have  sent  six  letters  since  the  date  of  the  last  which  you 
say  you  have  received;  and  three  addressed  to  my  sister, 
lady  Mar,  none  of  which,  you  say,  are  arrived."  ^ 

Many  of  the  annoyances  enumerated  in  the  foregoing 
pages  are  taken  almost  at  random,  for  there  is  no  lack  of 
material  to  choose  from.  The  delij.^hts  of  the;  grand  tour 
must,  indeed,  as  a  rule  have  overbalanced  the  vexations 
or  sensible  Englishmen  would  not  have  continued  for 
generations  to  travel  on  the  Continent.  But  the  fact 
remains  that  even  under  favorable  conditions  the  tourist 
could  hardly  avoid  a  succession  of  petty  troubles  that 
sorely  tried  his  patience.  Of  no  great  moment  when 
taken  singly,  nevertheless,  like  the  persistent  buzzing 
of  a  gnat,  they  finally  wore  uj^on  the  nerves  of  the  least 
captious  of  travelers.  One  to  whom  carping  criticism  was 
a  delight  found  .sufficient  material  in  a  single  tour  to  supply 
him  for  a  lifetime. 




Of  necessity,  some  of  the  expenses  of  travel  have  been 
occasionally  brought  to  our  attention  in  dealing  with 
other  matters.  A  few  words  may  here  be  added  in  more 
connected  form.  This  book  is,  of  course,  in  no  sense 
a  treatise  on  economics,  and  cannot  venture  to  invade 
a  field  that  in  a  peculiar  sense  requires  the  knowledge 
of  a  specialist.  But  some  indication  of  the  cost  of  travel 
is  desirable,  even  though  we  may  well  decline  the  task 
of  making  a  detailed  estimate  of  the  expense  of  an  eight- 
eenth-century tour  as  compared  with  one  in  our  day. 
What  an  old-fashioned  grand  tour  would  cost  was,  on 
the  face  of  things,  far  less  than  it  would  now  be  if  one  were 
to  travel  in  the  eighteenth-century  fashion,  for  the  price 
of  nearly  everytliing,  when  measured  in  pounds,  shil- 
lings, and  pence  is,  in  a  mere  numerical  statement,  far 
greater  now  than  it  was  a  century  and  a  half  ago.  Meas- 
ured in  general  commodities,  the  difference  is  less  marked, 
but  the  comparison  is  complicated  by  the  fact  that  ma- 
chinery and  rapid  transportation  have  cheapened  a  host 
of  products  once  wrought  by  hand  and  laboriously  dis- 
tributed by  slow  boats  and  carts.  Even  if  the  apparent 
cost  were  the  same,  we  should  still  have  to  determine 
the  relative  purchasing  power  of  the  money  expended. 

In  our  day  the  toiuist  can  dispense  with  carrying 
a  host  of  things  once  necessary  to  his  comfort  on  the 
journey.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  modem  tourist 
counts  as  ordinary  necessaries  of  life  many  things  that 
were  never  dreamed  of  a  century  and  a  half  ago.  The 
tourist  of  our  time  passes  in  a  luxurious  train  from  Paris 



to  Lyons  and  Marseilles  and  Rome  at  an  expense  of  a 
few  francs  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours.  Comfort- 
ably seated  in  his  motor-car  he  can  now  in  a  single  sum- 
mer cover  far  more  territory  than  the  earlier  tourist  could 
in  his  entire  three  years  abroad. 


It  is  not  many  years  a^o  that  travelers  in  Europe  used 
to  carry  about  their  waists  a  purse  in  the  form  of  a  belt, 
filled  with  gold  coin.  Even  yet  a  few  pieces  may  often 
prove  useful  in  an  emergency,  for  gold  is  a  quick  solvent 
of  many  international  differences.  But  to-day  few  tourists 
load  themselves  down  with  precious  metal.  Under  pres- 
ent conditions,  to  procure  any  reasonable  amount  of 
money  in  return  for  paper  recognized  as  good  is  .simplic- 
ity itself.  A  letter  of  credit,  payable  at  any  one  of  a 
long  list  of  banks  —  and  few  towns  are  so  small  as  to 
have  no  bank;  travelers'  checks,  accepted  not  only  at 
banks,  but  at  hotels  and  by  tradesmen;  and  a  multitude 
of  reputable  offices  of  exchange  ready  for  a  trifling  charge 
to  return  the  just  value  of  one's  gold  or  silver  in  the  money 
of  any  country  in  Europe  —  these  and  other  facilities 
have  removed  one  of  the  most  serious  obstacles  that  the 
earlier  tourist  had  to  face. 

The  somewhat  primitive  conditions  which  prevailed 
in  the  sixteenth  century  were,  it  is  true,  largely  amelior- 
ated before  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth.  The  eight- 
eenth century  carried  on  an  extensive  commerce  and  had 
a  tolerably  complete  system  of  banking  and  exchange 
that  had  been  slowly  developing  for  generations.  Far 
earlier,  indeed,  had  been  the  establishment  of  many  of  the 
famous  banks  of  Europe.  The  Bank  of  Venice,  made 
necessary  by  a  great  international  commerce,  dated 
from  the  twelfth  century;  the  banks  of  Florence  were 
already  flourishing  in  the  fourteenth  century;  and  before 
the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  banks  of 
Barcelona,    Genoa,    Amsterdam,    Rotterdam,    Hamburg, 



Nuremberg,  and  the  great  Bank  of  England  were  on  a  firm 
foundation.  The  Bank  of  Vienna  was  founded  in  1703, 
the  Bank  of  Breslau  in  1765.  In  France  the  disastrous 
failure  of  Law's  Bank  in  1720  delayed  the  founding  of 
banks  maintained  by  the  government,  so  that  it  was  not 
until  1776,  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI,  that  the  Caisse 
d'Escompte  was  established.  On  the  other  hand,  France 
had  mmierous  private  banks,  a  list  of  which  for  the  year 
1785  is  given  in  Thierry's  AlmanacJi  du  Voyageur.^ 

With  a  secure  banking  system  in  every  country  that 
the  tourist  visited,  he  could  put  aside  his  fears  that  he 
might  be  unable  to  procure  funds,  provided,  of  course, 
that  he  could  establish  his  identity  and  his  claim.  He 
might,  indeed,  as  already  suggested,  largely  dispense  with 
banks  by  carrjdng  gold  on  his  person  and  exchanging  it 
when  necessary.  But  the  imprudence  and  uselcssness 
of  keeping  large  sums  of  ready  money  where  they  might 
be  the  prey  of  a  chance  robber  were  sufficiently  evident 
to  most  travelers,  who  provided  themselves  with  letters 
of  credit  or  bills  of  exchange,^  the  latter  being  money- 
orders  addressed  to  a  particular  person,  who  was  directed 
to  pay  a  certain  sum  to  the  individual  designated.  Al- 
though the  convenience  and  safety  of  letters  of  credit  were 
recognized  before  the  eighteenth  century,  the  convenience 
was  somewhat  diminished  by  the  fact  that  the  credits 
were  to  be  honored  at  the  particular  bank  named  in  the 
letter.  Evelyn,  for  example,  in  1645,  had  a  letter  of  credit 
payable  at  Venice.^  Circular  letters  of  credit  payable 
at  any  one  of  a  long  list  of  banks  appear  to  have  first 
come  into  use  in  the  nineteenth  century. 

An  eighteenth-centiu*y  traveler  commonly  had  his 
funds  credited  to  him  at  some  bank  in  a  city  that  he  ex- 
pected to  visit  and  there  drew  at  his  convenience.  When 
Sterne  was  abroad,  "All  moneys  received  were  to  be 
sent  up  to  London  by  Sterne's  agents,  to  Selwin,  banker 
and  correspondent  of  Panchaud  and  Foley,  in  Rue  St. 
Sauveur,  Paris.  In  turn  the  banking  firm  at  Paris  was 
to  remit  to  Messrs.  Brousse  et  Fils  of  Toulouse."* 



But  the  methods  of  eighteenth-century  bankers  were 
cumbrous  and  slow,  particularly  if  the  tourist  applying  for 
money  happened  to  be  a  stranger.  How  exasperating 
the  procedure  was,  even  as  late  as  1829,  we  may  judge 
from  the  delays  involved  in  cashing  a  ■  draft  in  Paris. 
"My  draft  is  presented,  but  it  must  be  stamped;  and  I 
am  directed  to  the  public  office,  about  half  a  mile  off. 
Arrived,  I  wait  my  turn  to  be  served,  and,  after  paying  a 
duty  to  the  government  for  the  registry,  return  to  the 
banker,  who  receives  my  bill,  and  will  account  with  me 
next  week."  * 

It  is  not  altogether  surprising  that  the  bankers  of  the 
eighteenth  century  should  have  insisted  upon  convincing 
proofs  of  identity.  A  banker  at  Marseilles  or  Florence 
or  Vienna  could  not  hope  to  communicate  with  London 
and  receive  an  answer  under  several  weeks.  No  such 
delay  now  meets  the  tourist,  if  he  is  obviously  not  an  im- 
postor, but  even  yet  the  loss  of  time  involved  in  drawing 
money  at  a  French  provincial  bank  is  often  very  wearing 
on  the  nerves. 


When  the  tourist  had  succeeded  in  turning  his  bill 
of  exchange  or  letter  of  credit  into  ready  money,  he  was 
by  no  means  at  the  end  of  his  troubles,  for  the  variety  of 
money  current  on  the  Continent  was  an  endless  annoyance. 
We  cannot  do  more  than  touch  lightly  upon  the  compli- 
cated systems  of  currency  in  the  countries  that  we  are 
chiefly  considering,  for  our  main  purpose  is  not  to  know 
the  precise  value  in  modem  currency  of  this  or  that  coin, 
or  to  make  a  critical  survey  of  prices,  but  to  consider  how 
the  variety  of  monetary  systems  affected  the  tourist. 

In  the  time  of  the  Roman  Empire  one  could  go  from  the 
island  of  Britain  to  the  Euphrates  and  everywhere  present 
without  hesitation  money  bearing  the  imperial  stamp. 
Far  different  was  it  in  the  Middle  Ages,  when  a  multitude 
of  independent  kingdoms  and  principalities  and  free  cities 
established  themselves  and  left  as  a  legacy  to  after  gen-. 



erations  a  bewildering  variety  of  monetary  systems  based 
on  different  principles.  Such,  too,  was  the  state  of  things 
in  the  eighteenth  century.  As  soon  as  the  tourist  passed 
outside  of  France  into  Germany  or  into  Italy,  he  was 
compelled  to  exchange  his  money,  or  a  portion  of  it,  for 
use  in  the  district  where  he  was,  and  in  emergencies  he 
was  unmercifully  fleeced  by  unscrupulous  men  who  took 
advantage  of  his  necessity  and  his  ignorance.  James 
Edward  Smith  cites  an  experience  of  his  at  Naples :  "  Want- 
ing to  change  a  sequin,  the  value  of  which  in  the  silver *of 
the  place  we  well  knew,  these  thieves  offered  us  to  the 
amount  of  three  or  four  shillings  less  than  the  true  sum. 
We  applied  to  some  of  the  most  decent  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, one  after  another,  who  all  concurred  in  the 
same  account."  ^  Finally,  an  appeal  to  a  soldier  on  duty 
brought  the  true  change. 

Typical  of  what  might  be  expected  anywhere  was  Mis- 
son's  experience:  "We  meet  so  often  with  different  sorts 
of  money  in  Germany,  that  'tis  impossible  to  avoid  los- 
ing by  them.  The  best  way  is  to  make  sufficient  provision 
in  Holland  of  gold  ducats  and  silver  money  of  the  em- 
peror's coin,  which  are  current  everywhere  without  any 
abatement;  but  something  must  be  allowed  for  the  ex- 
change of  those  pieces."  ^ 

Nugent  forewarns  the  tourist  in  Germany:  "In  a 
country  divided  into  so  many  petty  sovereignties  there 
must  be  a  great  variety  of  money.  Almost  every  free 
town  coins  small  pieces  of  its  own,  which  are  current  over 
the  whole  empire."  ^  And  on  the  quality  of  this  sort 
of  currency  he  adds  interesting  comments.  "The  German 
coin  in  general  is  neither  true  sterling  nor  true  weight, 
being  dipt,  it  is  thought,  more  than  any  coin  in  Europe. 
The  pieces  that  ought  to  be  round  are  all  shapes.  The 
corruptors,  particularly  the  Jews,  do  not  trouble  them- 
selves to  file  it,  but  snip  large  bits  off  of  the  sides:  This, 
with  the  variety  of  money  that  is  current  here,  is  no  small 
disadvantage  to  trade,  and  sinks  the  value  of  estates  very 
sensibly.     As    a    knowledge,   therefore,   of    the    coins    is 



extremely  necessary  for  a  traveller,  we  shall  give  here  a 
short  account  of  the  several  species  that  are  current."  ^ 
The  "short  account"  fills  seven  pages. ^ 

Similar  complication  was  presented  by  the  money  of 
Italy.  "Every  little  state  and  principality  in  Italy," 
says  Nugent,  "coins  its  own  money,  which  a  traveller 
ought  to  have  some  knowledge  of  before  he  goes  to  that 
country,  otherwise  he  is  exposed  to  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
and  perplexity,  and  liable  moreover  to  be  imposed  upon. 
We  shall  therefore  give  some  account  of  the  several  coins 
of  the  principal  states  and  cities  of  Italy."  The  enumer- 
ation fills  five  pages. ^  "In  Lombardy  especially,  which 
is  divided  into  so  many  principalities,  in  each  state  the 
money  differs;  so  that  strangers  not  acquainted  with  this 
circumstance  are  liable  to  be  considerable  loosers.  The 
money  therefore  that  a  person  ought  to  carry  about 
him  in  Lombardy  is,  in  gold,  pistoles  ^  and  half  pistoles 
of  Italy;  in  silver,  Genovins,  Milanese  ducats,  and  the 
like;  and  as  soon  as  you  come  to  the  confines,  you  should 
change  and  leave  behind  you  the  money  of  the  country 
you  have  gone  thro',  and  take  the  same  sum  in  the  coin 
of  the  country  you  are  going  to  enter."  ^ 

If  the  traveler's  tour  included  Venice,  he  might  count 
upon  some  hours  of  study  before  he  could  pretend  to  un- 
derstand the  system  of  currency.  Even  where  he  was  not 
cheated  outright  into  receiving  false  money,  he  was  in 
constant  danger  of  mistaking  the  value  of  unfamiliar 
coins  and  of  getting  insufficient  change.  Consider  the 
state  of  the  average  tourist's  mind  on  reading  the  follow- 
ing lucid  explanation:  "At  Venice,  and  in  most  parts 
of  that  republic's  dominions,  they  keep  their  accounts  in 
Lires,  Soldi,  and  Pichioli,  reckoning  12  Pichioli  to  i  Soldo, 
and  20  Soldi  to  i  Lira.  But  the  bank  reckons  by  Ducats 
and  Grosses,  reckoning  24  Grosses  to  the  Ducat.  The 
current  monies  are,  I.  The  Pistole  of  Venice,  Florence, 
Spain,  and  Louis  d'ors  worth  29  Lires.  II.  Another  sort 
of  Pistoli,  valued  sometimes  at  more  than  30  Lires.  III. 
The  Pistole  of  Italy,  Genoa,  Turin,  Milan,  Parma,  Mantua, 



Modena,  and  Geneva,  worth  28  Lires.  IV.  The  Sequin, 
worth  17  Lires.  V.  The  Ducat  of  gold  or  Hungarian 
Ducat,  worth  16  Lires.  VL  The  Ducatoon,  worth 
8  Lires  3^.  VIL  The  silver  Crown,  worth  9  Lires  13 
Soldi.  VIII.  The  Silver  Ducat,  worth  6  Lires  4  Soldi. 
IX.  The  Crusade  of  Genoa,  called  Genoins,  worth  n 
Lires  10  Soldi,  and  sometimes  11  Lires  15  Soldi.  X.  The 
Philip  of  Milan,  worth  8  Lires  10  Soldi.  XI.  The  Tcs- 
toon.  worth  2  Lires  14  Soldi.  XII.  The  Julio  or  3  d. 
XIII.  The  Lira,  worth  20  Soldi.  XIV.  The  SolSo, 
worth  12  Pichioli.  XV.  The  Gross,  worth  32  PichioH."  » 
And  this  was  a  mere  beginning.  In  Tuscany  one  met 
the  sequin,  the  scudo,  the  li\Te,  and  the  paul.  The  Papal 
States  had  a  separate  system,  and  so  had  the  Kingdom 
of  Naples,  and  other  parts  of  the  country  ^  —  Bergamo, 
Bologna,  Genoa,  Messina,  Palermo,  Milan,  Turin.  Nugent 
calls  attention  to  the  fact,  that,  for  the  sake  of  aiding 
the  tourist,  he  has  specified  on  the  margin  of  his  book 
"where  one  prince's  or  state's  territory  begins  and  where 
another  ends";  and  he  suggests  that  "gentlemen  will 
not  take  more  money  into  a  neighboring  state  than  is 
necessary  to  defray  the  expenses  of  their  journey  to  it, 
since  it  will  be  useless  to  them."  ^  But,  ob\'iously,  it  was 
no  easy  matter  for  tourists  to  estimate  precisely  the  sum 
required  to  carry  them  without  embarrassment  over 
the  borders  of  one  petty  state  into  another  equally  petty, 
but  having  its  own  system  of  currency.  Even  in  the 
United  Provinces  the  tourist  had  to  be  cautious.  He 
was  ad\'ised  not  to  take  too  many  "schillings"  with  him, 
since  the  metal  was  base  and  "not  worth  a  third  part 
of  the  value"  it  went  at,  and,  naturally,  the  value  differed 
in  one  province  and  another.*  He  should  require  bank 
notes  rather  than  current  money,  since  no  coin  was  taken 
except  "at  the  intrinsic  worth."  ^  Similar  conditions 
met  one  in  other  countries  of  Europe,  but,  as  a  rule,  Spain, 
Hungary,  Russia,  and  the  Scandinavian  Peninsula  were 
not  included  in  the  Continental  tour. 




There  is  abundant  evidence  that  to  English  travelers 
the  expense  of  living  abroad  appeared  on  the  whole  low  as 
compared  with  the  cost  in  England.  This  we  shall  have 
occasion  more  than  once  to  verify.  Beyond  an  irreducible 
minimum  one's  personal  expenses  depended,  of  course,  upon 
the  individual.  These  may  engage  our  attention  a  little 
later.  But  there  were  outlays  that  were  inevitable  —  for 
transportation,  for  inns,  for  servants,  for  beggars.  We 
must  note,  however,  that  prices  were  constantly  chang- 
ing,' and  that  any  figures  here  given  merely  indicate  in 
some  measure  what  might  be  ordinarily  expected.  One 
inevitable  expense  was  the  passage  money  to  and  from  the 
Continent.  The  price  from  Brighton  to  Dieppe  was  a 
guinea  for  each  passenger,  and  the  packet  boat  sailed  twice 
a  week.2  Mariana  Starke,  near  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  returned  from  the  Continent  to  Yarmouth  by 
way  of  Cuxhaven.  Each  passenger  was  obliged  to  procure 
from  the  British  agent  a  permission  "to  embark  on  board 
the  packet."  "This  permission,"  says  she,  "costs  for  each 
gentleman  and  lady  twelve  shillings,  sixpence";  "for  each 
servant,  six  shillings,  sixpence."  The  ordinary  passage 
money  was  three  guineas.  Servants  paid  half  price.^  Be- 
sides all  this,  says  she,  "Each  Gentleman  or  Lady  pays  one 
guinea  for  provisions  to  the  Captain,  who  finds  everything, 
wine  excepted;  and  each  Servant  pays  half-price.  We 
gave  as  a  present  to  the  Master  of  the  Packet,  a  couple  of 
guineas;  to  the  Stewards  half  a  guinea,  and  to  the  Ship's 
Company  one  guinea."  * 

The  shortest,  cheapest,  and  most  popular  route  was 
from  Dover  to  Calais.  "Travellers  setting  out  from  Dover 
agree  for  their  passage  in  the  packet-boat  to  Calais,  which 
is  half  a  guinea  for  a  gentleman,  and  five  shillings  for  each 
servant  or  attendant;  the  mate  and  cabin-boy,  who  wait 
upon  you  on  board,  expect  one  shilHng  each  as  their  per- 
quisite.    If  you  are  several  in  company,  and  you  would 



hire  a  packet  or  vessel  to  yourselves,  the  price  is  five  guin- 
eas. Before  you  embark,  you  carry  your  baggage  to  the 
custom  house,  where  it  is  searched,  for  which  you  pay  six- 
pence, and  six-pence  more,  called  head-money.  The  dis- 
tance from  Dover  to  Calais  is  twenty-one  miles."  ^ 

Of  the  expense  of  posting  and  coaching  we  have  abundant 
data,  though  we  can  aflord  space  for  only  a  few  illus- 

For  going  by  post  from  Calais  to  Paris  the  cost  for  one 
person  with  two  horses  and  a  driver  was  £7  gs.  ^l^d* or 
171  livres,  of  which  the  hire  of  the  chaise  came  to  seventy- 
two  livres.  For  two  persons  with  three  horses  the  price 
rose  to  £9  55.  S^d.,  or  212  livres,  5  sols.  If  one  had  an 
EngHsh  chaise  the  charge  was  £io  165.  i}^d. 

One  unpleasant  feature  of  posting  in  France  was  that 
for  some  of  the  posts,  styled  royal,  though  in  nothing  supe- 
rior to  the  ordinary  posts,  a  double  charge  was  exacted. 
Moreover,  the  traveler  was  expected  to  make  no  sudden 
changes  in  his  plans.  If  by  post  he  had  set  out,  by  post  he 
must  continue.  Sterne's  post-chaise  had  broken  down  near 
Lyons,  but  he  had  to  pay  for  two  posts  beyond  Lyons,  be- 
cause he  had  started  by  post !  ^  Smollett  made  his  famous 
journey  through  France  to  Italy  in  1763,  and  carefully 
noted  his  expenses.  Says  he:  "My  journey  from  Paris  to 
Lyons,  including  the  hire  of  the  coach,  and  all  expenses  on 
the  road,  has  cost  me,  within  a  few  shillings,  forty  loui* 
dores."  '  Two  years  later,  having  had  his  coach  refitted 
and  having  seciu*ed  fresh  horses  and  another  postilion,  he 
paid  at  the  rate  of  a  louis  d'or  a  day.* 

For  going  from  Calais  to  Nice  in  a  coach  with  four  per- 
sons, or  in  two  post-chaises  with  a  servant  on  horseback, 
Smollett  reckons  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  as 
a  liberal  estimate  for  covering  all  expenses.  James  Edward 
Smith,  going  from  Avignon  to  Italy,  hired  a  carriage  "at 
the  rate  of  twelve  livres  a  day,  for  as  long  as  it  might  be 
wanted  to  carry  us  as  far  as  Nice."  ^  "Either  at  Calais 
or  at  Paris,  you  will  always  find  a  travelling  coach  or  ber- 
line,  which  you  may  buy  for  thirty  or  forty  guineas,  and 



this  will  serve  very  well  to  reconvey  you  to  your  own 
country."  ^ 

With  the  experiences  recorded  above  it  is  interesting  to 
compare  those  of  a  generation  or  two  later.  When  Leigh 
Hunt  brought  his  family  back  from  Italy  he  tells  us:  "On 
our  return  from  Italy  to  England,  we  travelled  not  by 
post,  but  by  vettura,  that  is  to  say,  by  easy  stages  of  thirty 
or^ forty  miles  a  day,  in  a  travelling  carriage;  the  box  of 
which  is  turned  into  a  chaise,  with  a  calash  over  it.  It  is 
drawn  by  three  horses,  occasionally  assisted  by  mules. 
We  paid  about  eighty-two  guineas  EngHsh,  for  which  some 
ten  of  us  (counting  as  six,  because  of  the  children)  were  to 
be  taken  to  Calais;  to  have  a  breakfast  and  dinner  every 
day  on  the  road;  to  be  provided  with  five  beds  at  night, 
each  containing  two  persons;  and  to  rest  four  days  during 
the  joiuTiey,  without  further  expense,  in  whatever  places 
and  portions  of  time  we  saw  fit."  ^ 

Those  who  preferred  the  cheap  stage-coach  or  the  dili- 
gence, with  its  early  hours,  could  travel  all  over  the  coun- 
try, though  with  less  independence.  Lady  Mary  Wortley 
Montagu  went  from  Paris  to  Lyons  by  diligence  for  "three 
hundred  Hvres,"  "all  things  paid."  ^  For  mere  transporta- 
tion one  paid  much  less.  "The  stage-coach  from  Lyons  to 
Paris  sets  out  from  the  Rue  de  Flandre,  every  other  day, 
at  four  in  the  morning.  You  pay  seventy-five  livres  for 
your  place,  and  five  sols  per  pounds  for  your  baggage, 
except  twenty-five  pounds  which  you  have  free."  ^ 

From  Rouen  to  Dieppe  the  stage-coach  went  through  in 
one  day  for  six  livres  a  person.^  Three-quarters  of  a  century 
later  the  price  had  somewhat  advanced,  but  it  still  im- 
pressed Hazlitt  as  very  low.  "Travelling  is  much  cheaper 
in  France  than  England.  The  distance  from  Dieppe  to 
Rouen  is  thirty-six  miles,  and  we  only  paid  eight  francs, 
that  is,  six  shillings  and  eight  pence  apiece,  with  two  francs 
more  to  the  guide  and  postilion,  which  is  not  four  pence  a 
mile,  including  all  expenses."  ^ 

For  short  trips  the  cheap  public  conveyance  was  a  de- 
cided convenience,  and  the  time  of  starting  was  not  always 



unreasonably  early.  "From  Paris  you  may  go  to  Ver- 
sailles," says  Nugent,  "for  five  and  twenty  sols  with  the 
coche,  which  sets  out  twice  a  day  from  the  Rue  Saint 
Nicaise.  You  may  likewise  go  with  a  carosse  or  stage-coach 
that  holds  but  four,  for  a  French  cro\ra  each;  or  with,  a 
postchaise.  Another  way  is  by  water  for  five  sols  as  far  as 
Seve,  which  is  half  way,  either  with  the  boats  of  Seve  or 
S.  Cloud.  They  set  out  at  eight  in  the  morning  from  Pont 
Royal."  » 

We  may  now  turn  to  Italy.  Owing  in  part  to  the 
wretched  conditions  of  government  in  Italy,  posting  was 
not  so  well  managed  as  in  France.  De  Brosses  found  it 
"excessively  dear."  ^  He  complains  bitterly  of  the  extor- 
tion of  the  drivers  and  the  owners  of  carriages  in  the  north 
of  Italy,  and  brands  them  as  the  worst  race  that  ever 
crawled  on  the  face  of  the  earth.*  His  compatriot,  De  La 
Lande,  gives  particidars:  "In  the  State  of  Venice  the 
posts  are  very  dear;  the  two  horses  of  a  chaise  cost  more 
than  eight  French  livres  a  post,  except  for  the  Venetian 
nobles,  who  pay  a  third  less,  since  they  have  all  sorts  of 
pri\dleges  in  the  State.  If  one  forgets  to  take  a  posting 
ticket  before  the  departure,  one  pays  much  more  besides."  * 

In  the  Roman  State,  "Every  draught-horse  is  charged 
at  four  pauls  a  post,  unless  it  be  a  post-royal,  when  the 
price  is  six  pauls  —  the  only  post-royal  in  the  Roman  State 
is  out  of  Rome.  Every  pair  of  horses  must  be  driven  by  a 
Postillion,  whose  claim  is  two  pauls  a  post,  but  who  will 
not  be  content  without  four  —  every  saddle-horse  is 
charged  at  three  pauls  a  post,  unless  it  be  a  post-royal, 
when  the  price  is  five  —  every  extra  draught-horse  is 
charged  at  three  pauls  a  post;  and  to  the  driver,  it  is  cus- 
tomary to  give  two  pauls,  though  he  has  no  regular  claim."  ' 

On  the  other  hand,  many  carriages  were  to  be  had  in  all 
the  small  cities  of  Italy,  and  at  a  lower  price  than  in  France. 
Commonly  they  were  let  by  private  owners.^  When  Smol- 
lett went  to  Rome  by  way  of  Siena,  he  hired  a  coach  for 
seven  weeks  for  "less  than  three  and  a  half  guineas.'' 
At  Rome  itself,  "For  ten  or  twelve  pistoles  a  month  a  gen- 



tleman  may  have  a  handsome  coach  and  a  pair  of  horses, 
except  at  Lent  or  about  Easter,  when  there  is  a  great  con- 
course of  strangers  at  Rome,  and  then  they  will  ask  four- 
teen pistoles  a  month  for  a  coach  and  a  pair  of  horses."  ^ 

How  the  cost  of  carriage  hire  worked  out  in  actual  prac- 
tice may  be  gathered  from  a  few  trips  actually  taken.  It 
will  be  noted  that  the  vetturino  system  was  commonly  the 
most  economical,  and,  assuming  reasonable  honesty  on  the 
part  of  the  conductor,  by  far  the  most  satisfactory.  As 
a  specimen  we  may  note  the  journey  of  Mariana  Starke 
from  Nice  to  Turin  in  May  of  1792.  For  the  carriage  there 
were  six  horses  and  for  the  courier  a  saddle  horse,  and  the 
cost  was  twenty-eight  louis-d'ors.  "Bearing  our  own  ex- 
penses at  inns  .  .  .  amounted  to  a  couple  of  crowns  a  day 
for  dinner  and  three  for  supper  and  beds;  we  were  four 
in  number,  besides  our  courier,  who  found  himself."  ^ 
The  same  writer  records:  "We  paid  from  Rome  to  Flor- 
ence, in  May,  1793,  forty  Roman  Sequins,  buona  ntano  in- 
clusive, for  four  mules  to  our  English  coach  and  three  to 
our  servants'  coach,  which  was  found  by  the  Voiturin. 
We  were  four  persons  besides  three  servants  —  had  one  meal 
a  day  —  paid  the  waiters  at  inns  —  and  gave  our  drivers 
one  Sequin  each  for  good  behaviour."  ^ 

It  is  instructive  to  see  how  eighteenth-century  condi- 
tions still  prevailed  in  the  early  nineteenth  century.  Haz- 
litt  says  that  at  Turin  "We  were  fortunate  enough  to  find  a 
voiture  going  from  Geneva  to  Florence  with  an  English 
lady  and  her  niece.  I  bargained  for  the  two  remaining 
places  for  ten  guineas.  .  .  .  We  were  to  be  eight  days  on 
the  road."  *  From  Florence  he  went  to  Rome  by  way  of 
Siena.  "We  did  not  meet,"  says  he,  "ten  carriages  on  our 
journey,  a  distance  of  a  hundred  and  ninety-three  miles, 
and  which  it  took  us  six  days  to  accomplish.  I  may  add  that 
we  paid  only  seven  louis  for  our  two  places  in  the  voiture 
(which,  besides,  we  had  entirely  to  ourselves)  our  expenses 
on  the  road  included.    This  is  cheap  enough."  ^ 

Many  travelers  in  Italy  took  the  route  along  the  Adri- 
atic, particularly  on  the  return  from  Rome,  and  went  by 



wa}'  of  Loretto  to  Bologna.  For  this  journey  James  Ed- 
ward Smith  and  his  party  paid  his  vetturino  "eighteen  se- 
quins,^ all  expenses  included."  ' 

The  other  chief  trip  in  Italy  was  that  from  Rome  to 
Naples  and  return.  For  the  journey  to  Naples  Smith  and 
his  party  paid  "a  little  more  than  three  guineas,  all  ex- 
penses included,  except  la  bttona  mano."  '  For  a  distance  of 
one  hundred  and  forty-one  miles  this  seems  very  reasonable. 

The  return  trip  cost  nearly  a  guinea  and  a  half  more,  but 
included  a  stop  of  two  days  at  Caserta  and  a  day  at  Monte 
Cassino.  Smith's  concluding  remark  is  worth  noting.  "In 
this  jomiiey  we  proxdded  our  own  accommodations  at  the 
inns,  by  way  of  experiment ;  but  were  not  so  well  satisfied 
as  when  the  whole  was  left  to  oiu:  voiturin."  •• 

As  compared  with  France,  or  even  Italy,  Germany  was 
ill-provided  \\'ith  posting  facilities  for  those  who  wished  to 
travel  in  comfort.  A  tourist  did  wisely  to  provide  his  own 
carriage  and  to  trust  as  little  as  possible  to  the  springless 
public  conveyances  or  the  lumbering  vehicles  that  he  might 
chance  to  find  for  his  private  use.  As  a  whole,  the  country 
was  poor,  and  the  cost  of  transportation  was  in  a  measure 
adjusted  to  the  average  income.  For  the  ordinary  post- 
wagon  one  paid  less  than  twopence  per  English  mile,  "be- 
sides two  grosses  at  each  stage  to  the  postilion."  ••  A 
traveler  late  in  the  eighteenth  century  observes:  "Trav- 
elling is  cheaper  in  Germany  than  in  France;  for  though 
you  pay  half  a  rix  dollar,  or  about  one  shilling  and  nine 
pence,  per  horse,  for  every  stage,  the  stages  are  as  long 
again  as  those  in  France.  In  Franconia,  Suabia,  and  most 
places  near  the  Rhine,  it  is  a  florin,  or  about  2S.  and  4d.  per 
horse;   the  postillion  will  expect  thirty  cruitzers."  * 

Far  better  were  conditions  of  travel  in  Holland.  So 
diminutive  was  the  country  that  no  journey  could  be  long, 
nor  could  the  cost  of  mere  transportation  amount  to  any 
great  sum  even  with  charges  far  beyond  those  actually 
demanded.  Already  in  Misson's  time  "the  rates  of  places 
in  the  stage-coaches  and  boats  were  fixed,"  so  that  there 
was  "no  occasion  for  contending  about  the  price."    The 



rates  varied  "according  to  the  difference  of  places  and  dis- 
tances." ^  Notwithstanding  some  travel  that  seems  to  us 
to  cost  very  little,  Cogan  in  1794  declares  that  travel  in 
Holland  is  "as  expensive  as  in  England,  or  even  more  so";^ 
and  this  we  may  well  believe.^  As  an  interesting  detail  he 
notes:  "From  Utrecht  to  Nimeguen  is  the  distance  of 
fourteen  hours.  There  are  no  turnpikes  upon  this  road; 
but  each  traveller  is  obliged  to  pay  passagie  geld  (passage 
money)  from  three-pence,  six-pence,  to  twelve-pence,  ac- 
cording to  the  distance  of  the  stage;  so  that  the  tax  is 
confined  to  persons."  * 

If  one  preferred  to  travel  in  Holland  by  water,^  the  rates 
were  very  reasonable.  And  this  was  equally  true  in  the 
Austrian  Netherlands.  The  prices  instanced  by  Essex  in 
1773  were  typical.  The  barge  from  Dunkerque  to  Nieuport, 
Bruges,  had  two  classes,  first  class  costing  fifteen  pence.^ 
More  sumptuous  was  the  barge  that  carried  the  traveler 
from  Bruges  to  Ghent,  a  distance  of  thirty  miles,  for  two 
shillings  and  sixpence,  including  dinner.  This  boat  was 
fifty-two  feet  long,  and  had  cabins,  windows  with  sliding 
sashes,  and  an  awning  "over  the  states  room." ' 


More  difficult  than  in  dealing  with  the  expense  of  trans- 
portation is  it  to  generalize  on  the  expense  of  hotels  or 
lodgings  or  food.  But  we  may  note  how  the  charges  ap- 
peared to  tourists  of  various  types. 

All  in  all,  one  could  live  very  well  at  small  expense  on  the 
Continent,  if  one  exercised  reasonable  prudence.  "It  is  a 
generally  conceived  notion  in  England  that  it  is  necessary 
to  have  a  considerable  fortune  to  make  the  tour  of  France : 
so  it  is,  I  confess,  if  a  man  is  determined  to  be  a  dupe 
to  Frenchmen,  and  enter  into  all  the  follies,  vices,  and 
fopperies,  of  that  vain  superficial  people;  but  I  can  with 
veracity  declare,  that  during  eighteen  months  I  was 
abroad,  it  did  not  cost  me  150/.  sterling."  ^ 

Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  drew  upon  a  wide  ex- 



perience,  and  in  one  of  her  letters  she  declares:  "Nothing: 
is  cheaper  than  living  in  an  inn  in  a  country  town  in 
France;  they  being  obliged  to  ask  no  more  than  25  sous 
for  dinner,  and  30  for  supper  and  lodging,  of  those  that  eat 
at  the  public  table."  ^  Mrs.  Steme  said  that  she  and  her 
daughter  "could  save  as  much  money  in  a  year  in  France 
as  would  keep  them  in  clothes  for  seven  in  England."  - 

Of  Geneva  Lady  Mary  does,  indeed,  say  that,  "Every 
thing  is  as  dear  as  at  London"; '  but  a  little  later  she  gives 
facts  that  show  what  one  might  do  on  a  moderate  income : 
"The  Prince  of  Hesse,  who  is  now  married  to  the  Princess  of 
England,  lived'some  years  at  Geneva  on  500/.  per  annum. 
Lord  Hervey  sent  his  son  at  sixteen  thither,  and  to  travel 
afterwards,  on  no  larger  pension  than  200/.;  and  though 
without  a  govemour,  he  had  reason  enough,  not  only  to 
live  within  the  compass  of  it,  but  carried  home  little  presents 
to  his  father  and  mother,  which  he  showed  me  at  Turin."  * 

In  the  second  half  of  the  century  Lady  Knight  spent 
much  time  on  the  Continent  and  lived  as  became  her  rank, 
though  her  resources  were  by  no  means  unlimited.  In  one 
of  her  engaging  letters,  written  from  Toulouse  in  1776,  she 
describes  one  of  her  dinners:  "I  gave  a  dinner  .  .  .  two 
days  since  to  an  Irish  lady  and  a  French  gentleman ;  we  had 
a  soup  and  a  dish  of  the  stewed  beef,  a  very  fine  large  eel, 
mutton  chops,  a  brace  of  the  red  partridge,  an  omelet  with 
peaches  in  it,  grapes,  peaches,  pears  and  savoy  biscuits; 
a  bottle  of  Bordeaux  —  sixteen  pence  —  a  bottle  of  our 
own  wine,  value  three  half -penny  s.  The  whole  expense 
amounted  to  ten  shillings,  wine  included  and  a  very  fine 
cauliflower."  ^ 

It  would  be  easy  to  show  in  detail  that  in  other  parts  of 
France  and  in  other  countries  one  could  purchase  a  great 
deal  for  very  little;  but  some  prices  are  unexpectedly  high. 
Smollett  says:  "We  have  as  good  tea  at  Boulogne  for  nine 
livres  a  pound,  as  that  which  sells  at  fourteen  shillings  at 
London."  *    In  our  time  neither  price  would  appear  cheap. 

About  1785  the  common  charge  in  France  for  dinner  was 
forty  sous  (twenty  pence)  and  forty-five  for  supper  and 



lodging.  One  might  also  expect  clean  linen  and  silver 
forks. ^  In  Smollett's  day  the  usual  price  was  thirty  sous 
"for  dinner  and  forty  for  supper,  including  lodging." 2  In 
1773,  James  Essex  was  at  Dunkerque  and  at  the  inn  shared 
a  supper  provided  for  four  people  at  fifteen  pence  a  head.' 
"It  consisted  of  two  fowls  boild,  a  Duck  roasted,  a  very 
fine  codling,  a  dish  of  artichoks  and  a  fine  sallad,  these  were 
replaced  by  a  dish  of  Tarts,  a  plate  of  Apricots,  2  plates  of 
maccaroons  with  other  confectionarys."  * 

Another  tourist  in  1773  records  his  expenses  at  Paris: 
"We  drove  to  the  H6tel  de  I'lmp^ratrice  in  the  Rue 
Jacob,  where  we  have  an  elegant  dining  room,  with  two 
bed  chambers  on  the  first  floor,  and  a  bed  chamber  in  the 
entre-sol,  with  an  apartment  for  the  servant,  for  three 
guineas  a  week.  I  confess  the  lodgings  are  dear,  but  the 
situation  is  good,  and  the  furniture  magnificent."  For 
coach  hire  he  paid  half  a  guinea  a  day  and  a  shilling  to 
the  coachman.  "We  have  likewise,"  says  he,  "a  valet 
de  place,  who  goes  behind  the  coach,  runs  in  errands,  and 
cheats  us  when  he  can.  We  generally  dine  at  a  Table 
d'H6te  where  we  find  genteel  people  and  good  dinners, 
the  price  is  different  at  different  houses;  but  for  forty 
sous  a  head,  which  is  twenty-pence  English,  we  dine  most 
sumptuously  on  two  courses  of  seven  and  five,  with  a 
dessert  and  a  pint  of  Burgundy;  when  two  are  seated, 
the  table  is  full.  We  always  sup  at  home.  We  buy  our 
wine  of  the  merchant,  and  our  supper  is  sent  from  the 
neighbouring   traiteurs."  ^ 

Smollett,  while  on  the  Continent,  found  that  expenses 
depended  largely  upon  the  tourist  himself.  If  he  was 
bent  on  economy,  he  could  easily  curtail  his  daily  outlay 
and  yet  live  comfortably.  "A  single  person,  who  travels 
in  this  country,  may  live  at  a  reasonable  rate  in  these 
towns,  by  eating  at  the  public  ordinaries;  but  I  would 
advise  all  families  that  come  hither  to  make  any  stay,  to 
take  furnished  lodgings  as  soon  as  they  can:  for  the  ex- 
pence  of  living  at  an  hotel  is  enormous.  I  was  obliged 
at  Marseilles  to  pay  four  livres  a  head  for  every  meal, 



and  half  that  price  for  my  sen'-ant,  and  was  charged  six 
livres  a  day  besides  for  the  apartment;  so  that  our  daily 
expence,  including  breakfast  and  a  valet  de  place, 
amounted  to  two  loui'  dores."  ' 


But  although  normal  prices  on  the  Continent  were 
often  extremely  low,  the  hiuried  tourist  seldom  reaj^ed 
the  fidl  advantage  of  them,  and  this  for  many  reasons. 
Tourists  were  ad\'iscd,  as  a  matter  of  principle,  not  to 
be  too  careful  of  their  expenditures.  "To  travel  agi-ee- 
ably,"  says  ^lisson,  "one  must  spend.  'Tis  the  way  to 
be  respected  of  every  body,  to  gain  admittance  every- 
where, and  to  make  great  advantages  of  travelling  in 
all  respects.  Since  'tis  but  once  in  j'our  lives  that  you 
undertake  such  a  thing,  'tis  not  worth  while  to  be  care- 
ful in  sa\'ing  a  thousand  crowns,  more  or  less.  Nothing 
is  more  melancholy  than  to  see  one's  self  forced,  upon  the 
account  of  thriftiness,  to  do  things  which  expose  one  to 
the  contempt  of  the  rest  of  the  travellers."  ^ 

This  advice  might  have  been  spared.  The  attitude 
of  the  average  well-to-do  English  tourist  towards  ex- 
pense was  very  lofty  and  inditlorcnt.  Accustomed  to 
a  large  establishment  at  home  and  to  a  revenue  that  to 
foreigners  appeared  princely,  he  scorned  small  economies 
and  dealt  out  considerable  sums  NN^thout  realizing  that  he 
was  doing  anything  unusual.  Moreover,  on  his  travels 
he  commonly  gave  liimself  freer  rein  than  at  home  and 
without  complaint  paid  outrageous  bills  that  he  might 
normally  have  scrutinized  more  closely.  Provided  with 
money  far  beyond  his  needs,  the  young  English  aristo- 
crat took  delight  in  la\ash  spending  and  lived  at  The 
Hague,  at  Paris,  at  Rome,  at  Vienna,  in  magnificent 
style.  He  had  his  coach,  his  nmning  footmen,  his  valet, 
and  other  servants  in  livery,  he  had  his  suits  of  velvet 
and  lace  and  silk,  and  he  gave  costly  dinners  to  repay 
some  of  the  hospitality  he  had  enjoyed. 



There  were,  of  course,  English  tourists  who  kept  the 
purse-strings  tightly  drawn,  either  because  of  a  saving 
disposition  or  because  otherwise  they  could  not  travel 
at  all.  Men  like  Smollett,  who  could  ill  afford  any  un- 
usual outlay,  were  goaded  to  fury  at  meeting  the  normal 
charges  exacted  from  travelers  of  rank.  But  as  a  rule, 
taking  pride  in  the  national  reputation  for  wealth,  the 
tourist  scorned  to  show  that  even  charges  ridiculously 
high  appeared  to  him  exorbitant. 

There  had  been  a  vast  increase  in  English  wealth  in 
the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,*  and  extrava- 
gance was  an  inherited  trait.  Fynes  Moryson  comments 
upon  the  prodigality  of  the  English  of  his  time  who  would 
not  take  the  trouble  to  examine  their  reckonings.'  Even 
Walpole  speaks  of  "the  incredible  profusion  of  our  young 
men  of  fashion.  I  know  a  younger  brother,"  says  he, 
"who  literally  gives  a  flower- woman  half  a  guinea  every 
morning  for  the  nosegay  in  his  button-hole."  ^ 

In  "The  Capuchin,"  Foote  cleverly  ridicules  the  Eng- 
lish fondness  for  spending  money  in  order  to  make  strangers 
stare.  Sir  Harry  Hamper,  who  is  now  making  a  tour 
with  a  "travelling  tuterer,"  had  formerly  kept  a  tea- 
shop  in   Cornhill. 

Sir  Harry  Hamper.    Come,  come!    Come  along.  Doctor! 
Peter,  give  the  postillions  thirty  souses  apiece. 

Peter.  '  Tis  put  down,  they  are  to  have  but  five,  in  the  book. 

Sir  H.  No  matter ;  it  will  let  them  know  we  are  some- 
body, Peter. 

Peter.  What  significations  that?  ten  to  one,  we  shall 
never  see  them  again. 

Sir  H.     Do  as  you  are  bid !     (Peter  pays  the  Postillions.) 

Peter.  There !  Pox  take  '  em,  see  how  they  grin  I  ay,  ay, 
I  dare  be  sworn  you  han't  seen  such  a  sum  this  many  a  day. 

1st  Post.    Serviteur!  bonne  voyage,  Monsieur  my  lor! 

Sir  H.  There,  there,  Peter!  my  lord!  I  have  purchased 
a  title  for  ten  pence;  that  is  dog  cheap,  or  the  devil 's  in  't. 

Peter.  Nay,  in  that  respect,  the  folks  here  make  but  little 
difference  between  their  dogs  and  your  worship,  I  think;  for 
every  mangy  cur  I  have  met  with,  is  either  prince,  or  my 
lord,  or  marquis.^ 



As  for  the  reputation  of  the  English  abroad,  the  plain- 
spoken  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  does  not  mince 
matters.  "I  know,"  says  she,  "how  far  people  are  im- 
posed on  that  bear  the  name  of  English  and  heretics 
into  the  bargain;  the  folly  of  British  boys,  and  stupidity 
or  knavery  of  governors,  have  gained  us  the  glorious  title 
of  Golden  Asses  all  over  Italy."  *  Very  illuminating,  also, 
are  the  remarks  of  Baretti  on  the  extravagance  of  the 
English  during  the  tour  abroad.  "I  believe  it  is  not 
necessary  to  say  that  a  disposition  to  spend  money  freely 
is  one  of  the  chief  requisites  towards  the  pleasures  of 
such  an  undertaking.  However,  there  are  few  English 
travellers  who  need  this  advice;  and  perhaps  it  would 
not  be  improper  to  warn  some  of  the  most  profuse,  of  the 
general  character  this  quality  has  acquired  them  in  Italy, 
where  they  are  often  called  dupes  and  fools;  and  many 
of  my  countrymen  have  wished  for  a  law  to  prevent 
their  coming  into  Italy,  unless  they  come  with  a  certi- 
ficate, importing  that  they  know  the  true  use  of  money."  ^ 

This  lordly  indifference  to  expense,  together  with  the 
reputation  for  boundless  wealth,  brought  the  inevitable 
penalty,  for  prices  advanced  wherever  the  English  went.^ 
If  Englishmen  bought  pictures  they  were  at  the  mercy 
of  gHb-tongued  professional  guides  who  played  into 
the  hands  of  the  dealers.  Not  seldom  they  were  even 
ready  to  pay  more  than  was  asked.  They  offered  Can- 
aletto  for  his  mediocre  pictures  of  Venice  three  times  as 
much  as  his  ordinary  price.* 

Where  they  had  no  other  amusement  at  hand  they 
often  literally  threw  their  money  away .  ' '  How  frequently , ' ' 
says  a  close  observer,  "did  I  with  concern  see  our  young 
nobility  and  gentry,  who,  even  travelling  for  their  edu- 
cation, spend  their  money  and  time,  little  to  their  own 
improvement,  or  the  credit  of  their  country,  frequently 
collecting  mobs  in  the  street,  by  throwing  money  from 
the  windows;  and  in  their  daily  actions  confirming  French- 
men in  their  unalterable  opinions,  that  the  English  are 
all  immensely  rich,  and  consequently  can  afford  to  pay 



double  what  a  Frenchman  wiU  pay  for  the  same  article! 
People  in  trade  find  the  EngUsh  custom  so  vastly  bene- 
ficial, that  they  have  their  lookers-out  on  purpose  to 
bring  them  to  their  shops  and  taverns,  who  have  a  share 
in  the  impositions  arising."  ^  "The  EngUsh,"  says  Lady 
Knight,  "pay  double  for  everything  in  every  country.' 

Even  tourists  of  modest  means  were  commonly  charged 
on  the  same  scale  as  their  extravagant  countrymen. 
An  American  writing  shortly  after  the  French  Revo- 
lution says:  "The  English  are  considered  by  the  Romans 
as  the  introducers  of  high  prices  into  this  country.  To 
them  it  is  said  to  be  owing,  that  the  expenses  of  travel- 
ling have  increased  to  an  astonishing  degree,  smce  the 
termination  of  the  late  continental  wars;  and  that,  not 
so  much  by  the  simple  occupation,  use,  and  consumption 
of  the  conveniences  and  luxuries  of  the  country,  as  by 
the  manner  in  which  they  squander  their  money  rather 

than  spend  it." '  ■,  u 

Particularly  throughout  Italy  and  France  greedy  coach- 
men and  porters  and  hotel  servants,   as  well  as  shop- 
keepers and  landlords,  regarded  the  incautious  stranger 
as  legitimate  spoU,  and  strove  to  catch  their  sMre  of 
the    golden    shower."      Every    unscrupulous    dealer    had 
two  prices  -  one  that  he  would  get  if  he  could,  the  other 
that  he  would  take  if  he  must.    The  native,  accustomed  to 
bargaining  and  familiar  with  prices,  had  small  difficulty 
in  making  his  own  terms.     The  average  tourist,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  ill  prepared  to  succeed  in  such  a  contest 
Extortion  faced  travelers  as  soon  as  they  landed  at 
Calais.     There  they  found  the  Silver  Lion,   the  HOte 
d'Angleterre,  or  Table  Royal,  "extravagant  houses  all! 
and  the  high  prices,  though  not  the  comforts,  of  these 
inns  met  them  in  the  most  unexpected  places. 

We  are  obviously  unwarranted  in  infemng  from  a 
few  instances  that  every  Continental  innkeeper^  took 
advantage  of  his  guests,  but  the  concurrent  testimony 
of  tourists  in  France  and  Italy  was  that  to  trust  to  the 
fairness  of  an  unknown  landlord  was  hazardous  m  the 



extreme.  At  Montpellier  the  manager  of  a  certain  house 
"had  the  conscience  to  charge  an  EngHsh  sea  officer 
that  died  there  300  livres  (twelve  gtiineas  and  a  half) 
for  only  eight  days'  lodging."  ^ 

Smollett  had  his  own  unpleasant  experience  at  Mont- 
pellier: "Put  up  at  the  Cheval  Blanc,  counted  the  best 
auherge  in  the  place,  tho'  in  fact  it  is  a  most  wretched 
hovel,  the  habitation  of  darkness,  dirt,  and  imposition. 
Here  I  was  obliged  to  pay  four  livres  a  meal  for  every 
person  in  my  family,  and  two  livres  at  night  for  every 
bed,  though  all  in  the  same  room.  .  .  .  This  imposi- 
tion is  o^vdng  to  the  concourse  of  English  who  come  hither, 
and,  like  simple  birds  of  passage,  allow  themselves  to 
be  plucked  by  the  people  of  the  country,  who  know  their 
weak  side,  and  make  their  attacks  accordingly.  They 
affect  to  believe  that  all  the  travellers  of  our  country 
are  grand  seigneurs,  immensely  rich  and  incredibly  gen- 
erous; and  we  are  silly  enough  to  encourage  this  opinion, 
by  submitting  quietly  to  the  most  ridiculous  extortion, 
as  well  as  by  committing  acts  of  the  most  absurd  extrav- 
agance. This  folly  of  the  English,  together  with  a  con- 
course of  people  from  different  quarters,  who  come  hither 
for  the  re-establishment  of  their  health,  has  rendered 
Montpellier  one  of  the  dearest  places  in  the  south  of 
France."  2 

Elsewhere  he  notes:  "The  same  imposition  prevails 
all  over  the  south  of  France,  though  it  is  the  cheapest 
and  most  plentiful  part  of  the  kingdom.  Without  all 
doubt,  it  must  be  owing  to  the  folly  and  extravagance  of 
English  travellers,  who  have  allowed  themselves  to  be 
fleeced  without  wincing,  until  this  extortion  is  become 
authorized  by  custom."  ' 

Neglect  to  ascertain  in  advance  the  cost  of  a  room  or  a 
dinner  left  the  proprietor  free  to  exact  as  much  as  he 
thought  he  could  probably  get.  "To  an  Englishman  it 
seems  very  strange  to  go  into  an  inn,  and  make  a  bar- 
gain for  his  bed,  his  supper,  his  horses  and  servants, 
before  he  eats  or  sleeps;  yet  this  is  common  in  France, 



and  for  a  stranger  even  necessary;  for  though  you  will 
meet  with  no  kind  of  civil  reception  at  the  inns  upon  the 
road  in  France,  as  with  us,  at  your  entrance,  you  will 
meet  with  an  exorbitant  bill  (without  this  precaution) 
at  your  departure."  * 

Young  evidently  neglected  this  precaution  at  Cher- 
bourg. "I  was  here  fleeced  more  infamously  than  at  any 
other  town  in  France;  the  two  best  inns  were  full;  I  was 
obliged  to  go  to  the  barque,  a  vile  hole,  little  better  than 
a  hog-sty;  where,  for  a  miserable  dirty  wretched  cham- 
ber, two  suppers  composed  chiefly  of  a  plate  of  apples 
and  some  butter  and  cheese,  with  some  trifle  besides  too 
bad  to  eat,  and  one  miserable  dinner,  they  brought  me 
in  a  bill  of  31  liv.  (il.  7s.  id.);  they  not  only  charged 
the  room  3  liv.  a  night,  but  even  the  very  stable  for  my 
horse,  after  enormous  items  for  oats,  hay,  and  straw. "^ 
He  cautions  the  tourist:  "Let  no  one  go  to  Cherbourg 
without  making  a  bargain  for  everything  he  has,  even  to 
the  straw  and  stable;  pepper,  salt,  and  table-cloth." 

Later  he  cites  another  example  of  the  greed  of  the 
spoiler:  "Sleep  at  Nemours,  where  we  met  with  an  inn- 
keeper, who  exceeded,  in  knavery,  all  we  had  met  with 
in  France  or  Italy;  for  supper,  we  had  a  soup  maigre, 
a  partridge  and  a  chicken  roasted,  a  plate  of  celery,  a 
small  cauliflower,  two  batches  of  poor  vin  du  Pays,  and 
a  dessert  of  two  biscuits  and  four  apples :  here  is  the  bill : — 
Potage,  I  liv.  10/.  —  Perdrix,  2  liv.  10/.  —  Poulet,  2  liv. — 
Celeri,  i  liv.  4/. —  Choufleur,  2  liv. —  Pain  et  dessert, 
2  liv.  —  Feu  &  apartement,  6  liv.  —  Total,  19  liv.  8/. 
Against  so  impudent  an  extortion,  we  remonstrated  se- 
verely, but  in  vain.  We  then  insisted  on  his  signing  the 
bill,  which,  with  many  evasions,  he  did,  a  Vetoile;  Foul- 
liarer  ^ 

The  instances  just  cited  are  the  more  striking  to  the 
modern  tourist,  since  extortion,  though  not  unknown, 
is  by  no  means  the  rule  in  modem  France.  To  this  day, 
however,  in  a  good  part  of  Italy,  particularly  south  of 
Florence,    the    eighteenth-century    habit    of    taking    ad- 



vantage  of  the  unwary  guest  is  only  too  common.  Ger- 
many has  enjoyed  a  far  better  reputation  in  this  par- 
ticular, though  one  has  always  found  preliminary  in- 
quiry concerning  hotel  charges  useful  in  Vienna,  and 
also  in  the  more  frequented  parts  of  Holland. 

Strangely  like  the  eighteenth-century  complaints  are 
those  of  Leigh  Hunt,  whose  three  years  in  Italy,  from 
1823  to  1826,  gave  him  abundant  opportunity  for  obser- 
vation: "Persons  employed  to  do  the  least  or  the  great- 
est jobs  will  alike  endeavour  to  cheat  you  through  thibk 
and  thin.  Such,  at  least,  was  the  case  when  I  was  in 
Italy.  It  was  a  perpetual  warfare,  in  which  you  were 
obliged  to  fight  in  self-defence.  If  you  paid  anybody 
what  he  asked  you,  it  never  entered  his  imagination  that 
you  did  it  from  anything  but  folly.  You  were  pronounced 
a  minchioHc  (a  ninny),  one  of  their  greatest  terms  of  re- 
proach. On  the  other  hand,  if  you  battled  well  through 
the  bargain,  a  perversion  of  the  natural  feeling  of  self- 
defence  led  to  a  feeling  of  respect  for  you.  Dispute  might 
increase;  the  man  might  grin,  stare,  threaten;  might 
pour  out  torrents  of  argument  and  of  'injured  innocence,' 
as  they  always  do;  but  be  firm,  and  he  went  away  equally 
angry  and  admiring.  Did  anj'body  condescend  to  take 
them  in,  the  admiration  as  well  as  the  anger  was  still 
in  proportion,  like  that  of  the  gallant  knights  of  old  when 
they  were  beaten  in  single  combat."  ' 

As  for  the  eighteenth-century  tourist  in  Italy,  if  he 
condescended  to  bargain  a  little  he  could  live  very 
cheaply,  though  seldom  so  cheaply  as  a  native  even  with- 
out bargaining.  Very  significant,  as  indicating  the  double 
standard  of  prices  in  Italy,  is  the  experience  of  James 
Edward  Smith.  Wliile  on  his  way  to  Genoa,  he  fell  in 
with  a  Milanese  count  and  put  up  with  him  at  an  inn. 
"When  we  came  to  pay  our  bill  in  the  morning,  I  was 
surprised  to  find  no  demand  made,  but  the  whole  left 
to  the  discretion  of  my  companion,  who  paid  in  all,  for 
himself  and  for  me,  much  less  perhaps  than  I  should 
have  paid  alone;  as  was  the  case  all  the  way  to  Genoa. 



Such  is  the  advantaj.^c  of  travelling  under  the  protection 
of  an  inhabitant  of  the  country."  ' 

A  typical  Italian  city  of  moderate  size  is  Pavia.  Here 
one  could  live  at  "an  excellent  inn"  for  about  "four 
shillings  by  the  day"  for  "dinner  and  lodging,  which  is 
the  common  rate  of  the  country."  '  At  Venice  the  charges 
were  naturally  much  higher.  The  guest  who  went  to 
the  "Scudo  di  Francia,  a  celebrated  hotel,"  could  have 
"  only  two  miserable  little  rooms  for  twenty  sequins  a 
month,  nor  .  .  .  obtain  them  for  a  shorter  period," 
and  was  asked  twelve  livres  a  day  for  dinner.  But,  says 
the  traveler,  our  conductor  "readily  procured  at  the 
Nuova  Speranza  a  very  elegant  and  convenient  set  of 
apartments  for  fifteen  sequins,  and  dinner  at  six  livres 
each,  with  an  excellent  valet  de  place,  who  served  us 
during  our  stay  for  six  livres  a  day,  which  was  cheap 
for  this  season.  A  Venetian  livre  is  somewhat  less  than 
a  Roman  paul."  ^ 

Cheap  as  Itahan  hotels  were  in  most  towns  when  one 
paid  only  the  normal  price  or  what  the  landlord  was 
willing  to  accept  after  bargaining,  they  were  often  ex- 
pensive enough  to  the  traveler  who  trusted  to  the  fair- 
ness and  honesty  of  his  host.  Sometimes  the  inns  that 
offered  least  demanded  most.  The  only  safe  plan,  there- 
fore, as  in  France,  was  to  come  to  an  agreement  in  ad- 
vance with  the  landlord,  and  even  then  one  might  be 
overreached  by  leaving  some  loophole  unguarded.  ■»  Smol- 
lett says  of  an  inn  on  the  road  between  Rome  and  Flor- 
ence, "To  give  you  an  idea  of  the  extortion  of  those  vil- 
lainous publicans,  I  must  tell  you  that  for  a  dinner  and 
supper,  which  even  hunger  could  not  tempt  us  to  eat, 
and  a  night's  lodging  in  three  truckle  beds,  I  paid  eighty 
pauls,   amounting  to  forty  shillings  sterling."^ 

The  habit  of  overreaching  was  nothing  new.  The 
sixteenth  century  Fynes  Moryson  tells  us,  "Only  the 
Innkeepers  are  permitted  by  all  Princes  (some  more,  some 
lesse)  to  cxtorte  without  measure  upon  all  passengers 
because  they  pay  unsupportable  rents  to  them."  ^ 



Of  impositions  in  Italy  ncarl}'^  every  eighteenth-century 
traveler  speaks  in  bitter  terms.  Already  in  the  seventeenth 
century  Ray.  in  his  "Travels  through  the  State  of  Venice," 
complains:  "Shop-keepers  and  tradesmen  are  false  and 
fraudulent  enough,  and  inn-keepers,  carriers,  water-men 
and  porters,  as  in  other  places,  horribly  exacting,  if  you 
make  not  an  explicit  bargain  with  them  beforehand,  inso- 
much that  in  many  places  the  state  hath  thought  it  neces- 
sary by  public  bando  and  decree,  to  determine  how  much 
inn-keepers  shall  receive  of  travellers  for  their  dinner  and 
for  their  supper  and  lodging."  ' 

Commenting  upon  the  inns  of  Turin,  Keysler  in  his  time 
complains :  "The  inns  here  also  stand  in  great  need  of  better 
regulations,  that  travellers  may  be  well  used  and  not  be  so 
intolerably  imposed  upon.  There  is  not  a  place  in  all  Italy 
where  the  entertainment,  at  the  same  expence,  is  so  bad  as 
at  Turin."  « 

James  Edward  Smith  stayed  at  the  same  inn  at  Lerici 
that  Smollett  had  denounced  years  before,  and,  like  Smol- 
lett, he  had  an  unliappy  experience:  "Lerici,"  says  he, 
"contains  an  execrable  inn.  .  .  .  We  bargained  before- 
hand, as  is  necessary  in  Italy,  for  our  supper  and  lodging; 
but,  having  had  coffee  next  morning,  were  surprised  to  find 
it  charged  about  as  much  as  all  the  rest  put  together.  On 
complaining,  we  were  told  with  the  utmost  effrontery,  that 
coffee  was  not  in  the  original  bargain."  ' 

But  it  is  worth  noting  that  Smith  remarks  later:  "We 
found  the  inn-keepers  in  the  north  of  Italy  honest  enough 
to  be  trusted,  at  least  so  much  as  only  to  ask  the  price  of 
our  accommodation  on  entering,  and  even  if  that  precaution 
were  neglected,  we  were  seldom  imposed  on."  * 

In  the  South  the  grasping  instinct  was  strongest.  Breval 
went  from  Messina  to  Naples  by  felucca,  landing  here  and 
there  along  the  coast.  He  found  bad  accommodations  all 
the  way,  and  once  narrowly  escaped  being  shot  by  an  irate 
landlord  whose  bill  he  disputed.^  The  shotgun  was  not 
generally  used  in  Italy  as  a  proof  of  the  correctness  of  the 
hotel  bill,  but  complaints  of  the  dishonesty  of  innkeepers 



and  in  general  of  those  who  had  anything  to  sell  are  fre- 
quent in  eighteenth-century  books  of  travel. 

Naturally  high  prices  prevailed  in  those  houses  that 
catered  to  foreign  guests.  But  the  ordinary  charges  for 
food  and  lodging  at  an  eighteenth-century  Italian  inn  ap- 
pear to  a  modern  tourist  very  moderate  indeed.  We 
must  note,  however,  that  De  Drosses  *  thought  the  Italian 
inns  expensive ;  and  that  De  La  Lande  ^  remarks  upon  the 
extreme  cheapness  of  food  in  Tuscany,  but  adds,  "Tout  est 
chcr  dans  les  auberges." 

Mariana  Starke,  basing  her  generalization  upon  a  seven 
years'  residence  in  Italy,  says:  "Prices  at  inns  are  much 
the  same  all  over  Italy,  namely,  for  a  large  apartment, 
twenty  Tuscan  pauls  per  day  —  for  a  smaller  apartment, 
fifteen  pauls,  and  so  on  in  proportion  —  for  breakfast,  one 
livre  per  head  —  for  dinner,  six  or  eight  pauls  per  head  — 
for  a  cold  supper,  one  livre  per  head  —  for  every  servant, 
three  pauls  per  day.  And  with  respect  to  huona-mano  to 
Attendants  at  inns,  the  waiter  usually  expects  about  one 
paul  per  day,  though  persons  who  stay  but  a  very  short  time 
usually  give  more.  The  Cook  expects  a  trifling  present,  and 
the  chambermaid  one  still  more  trifling.  The  wages  of  a 
valet-de-place  is  four  pauls  per  day  throughout  Tuscany, 
he  finding  himself  in  board,  lodging  and  clothes."  ' 

After  this  general  statement  we  need  spare  but  few  lines 
for  further  detail.  "At  Rome,"  says  Misson,  representing 
the  earlier  part  of  the  century,  "you  pay  but  seven  julios  ^ 
in  the  best  inns,  and  if  you  make  a  bargain  for  a  consider- 
able time  they  will  content  themselves  with  six."  ^ 

In  general,  throughout  the  eighteenth  century,  living  at 
Rome  was  inexpensive.  Lady  Knight  writes  in  1778:  "I 
have  now  taken  a  lodging  for  a  year,  at  six  and  thirty  pounds 
a  year.  .  .  .  We  are  in  a  palace  surrounded  by  palaces. 
It  is  neatly  furnished,  and  I  have  eight  rooms  entirely  clear 
from  the  other  families,  who  only  ascend  the  same  staircase. 
The  English  pay  about  as  much  for  two  months  of  apart- 
ments, often  not  quite  so  good."  ^  Three  years  later  she 
remarks:   "We  are  both  fond  of  Rome,  finding  it  not  only 



cheap,  but  the  most  entertaining  place  in  the  world,  am! 
were  we  to  stay  double  the  time  we  have  done,  we  should 
still  have  thinj^s  to  see  that  are  new."'  And  she  adds,  "It 
is  true,  Rome  is  at  present  very  de;ir,  but  when  I  tell  you 
that  beef  is  only  three-halfpence  a  pound,  a  fine  turkey  iiot 
quite  fifteen-pence,  that  I  can  have  a  coach  for  six  hours  (or 
horses  to  our  owm,  which  I  please)  for  three  and  six-ponoo. 
you  will  think  how  differently  I  must  be  in  England."  ^ 
In  17S2  she  says  that.  "Though  Rome  is  thirty  per  cent 
dearer  than  it  was,  yet  it  is,  I  believe,  the  cheapest  city  in 
Europe. ' '  ^  And  in  1 7 9 1 ,  living  not  far  from  the  Capitol,  she 
tells  a  friend:  "We  have  eight  rooms,  besides  a  very  good 
kitchen  and  cellar.  .  .  .  We  are  three  miles  from  St.  Peter's. 
We  pay  for  these  apartments  about  twelve  pounds  ten  a 
year;  in  London  they  would  cost  us  at  least  two  hundred 
pounds  per  anmmi."  ^ 

Mariana  Starke  likewise  found  Rome  very  inexpensive. 
"The  price  of  lodgings,  while  the  Papd  Government  con- 
tinued, was  not  exhorbitant  —  IMargariti  usually  demanded 
forty  paper  scitdi  per  month  for  his  best  apartments,  with- 
out linen,  unless  it  were  during  the  Holy  Week,  when  the 
price  was  higher.  Conquelini  demanded  sixty  paper  scudi 
per  month  without  linen ;  but  this  price  was  reckoned  ex- 
horbitant." ^  "The  best  traitcurs  during  the  Papal  Gov- 
ernment charged  only  eight  pauls  a  head  for  dinner,  des- 
ert, bread,  and  wine;  and  this  dinner  usually  furnished  the 
servants  of  the  family  with  as  much  as  they  could  cat. 
The  price  of  breakfast  at  a  coffee-hotise  was  one  paul  per 
head  —  the  price  of  dinner  per  head  at  a  iraitcur's,  three 
pauls,  bread  and  wine  inclusive."  ^ 

LiN^ng  at  Naples  also  was  extremely  cheap,^  though  the 
tourist  did  ^^^sely  to  be  on  his  guard. ^  At  the  end  of  the 
century,  "The  price  commonly  demanded  [at  Naples]  for 
the  best  apartments  at  hotels,  and  other  lodging-houses 
frequented  by  the  English,  is  from  eighty  to  one  hundred 
and  twenty  ducats  per  month,  during  winter  and  spring; 
and  apartments  by  the  night  cannot  easily  be  procured 
under  three  or  four  ducats.  ...  A  good  dinner  at  an  hotel 



is  usually  charged  at  eight  or  ten  carlini  per  head;  Ser- 
vants' living  at  three  or  four  carlini  per  day  each  —  break- 
fast is  charged  so  high  that  most  People  find  their  own."  ^ 

In  any  case,  living  in  Italy  was  far  less  expensive  than 
in  England,^  and  so  the  scale  of  relative  prices  has  on  the 
whole  continued  to  our  own  time.  How  cheaply  one  could 
live  at  Florence  in  1845  we  see  from  the  experience  of 
Bayard  Taylor:  "We  have  taken  three  large  and  tolerably 
well  furnished  rooms  in  the  house  of  Signor  Lazzeri,  a 
wealthy  goldsmith,  in  the  Via  Vacchereccia,  for  which  we 
pay  ten  scudi  per  month  —  a  scudo  being  a  trifle  more  than 
an  American  dollar.  This  includes  lights,  and  the  attend- 
ance of  servants,  to  whom,  however,  we  are  expected  to 
give  an  occasional  gratuity.  We  live  at  the  Cafe  and 
Trattorie  readily  for  about  twenty-five  cents  a  day,  so  that 
our  expenses  will  not  exceed  twelve  dollars  a  month,  each. 
For  our  dinners  at  the  Trattoria  del  Cacciatore  we  pay 
about  fourteen  cents,  and  are  furnished  with  soup,  three 
or  four  dishes  of  meat  and  vegetables,  fruit  and  a  bottle  of 
wine!" ^ 

In  traveling  through  Tuscany  in  the  forties  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  Bayard  Taylor  put  up  at  inns  frequented 
by  the  common  people.  "They  treated  us  here,  as  else- 
where," says  he,  "with  great  kindness  and  sympathy,  and 
we  were  freed  from  the  outrageous  impositions  practised 
at  the  greater  hotels."^  At  Casina,  however,  "We  de- 
cided to  leave  it  to  the  host's  conscience  not  to  over- 
charge us.  Imagine  our  astonishment,  however,  when  at 
starting  a  bill  was  presented  to  us,  in  which  the  smallest 
articles  were  set  down  at  three  or  four  times  their  value."  ^ 

We  may  now  pass  into  Germany.  The  German  character 
has  its  failings,  but  "steadiness  with  honesty"  has  re- 
mained for  centuries  its  distinguishing  mark.  This  ap- 
peared in  the  dealings  with  tourists,  who  rarely  complain  of 
the  charges  at  German  inns  and  in  German  shops.^  Until 
near  the  end  of  the  nineteenth  century  cheapness  continued 
to  be  a  notable  feature  of  the  country.    Henry  Crabb  Rob- . 



inson  made  a  tour  of  three  hundred  miles  in  Germany  at  a 
cost  of  two  and  a  half  guineas.  "And  when  it  is  considered 
that  we  included  in  our  tour  one  of  the  most  fashionable  and 
famous  resident  towns,  and  one  of  the  celebrated  districts 
of  Germany,  it  must  be  allowed  that  travelling  is  for  me  a 
cheap  pleasure."  ^ 

Bayard  Taylor  tells  a  similar  story,  but  we  must  note 
that  Taylor  had  a  genius  for  living  on  almost  nothing. 
"The  cheapest  coimtry  for  travelling,  as  far  as  my  experi- 
ence extended,  is  Southern  Germany,  where  one  can  travel 
comfortably  on  twenty-five  cents  a  day.  Italy  and  the 
south  of  France  come  next  in  order,  and  are  but  little  more 
expensive;  then  follow  Switzerland  and  Northern  Germany, 
and  lastly.  Great  Britain.  The  cheapest  city,  and  one  of 
the  pleasantest  in  the  world,  is  Florence,  where  we  break- 
fasted on  five  cents,  dined  sumptuously  on  twelve,  and 
went  to  a  good  opera  for  ten.  A  man  would  have  no  diffi- 
culty in  spending  a  year  there  for  about  $250."  ^ 

In  the  eighteenth  century  Baron  Riesbeck  found  even 
Vienna  inexpensive  for  those  who  could  make  a  long  stay, 
though  the  hotels  have  long  been  dear  for  the  passing 
stranger.  "The  expence  of  living,"  says  he,  "is  likewise 
less  than  it  is  anywhere  else;  and  Vienna  is  probably  the 
only  town  in  which  the  price  of  the  necessaries  of  life  is  not 
equal  to  the  quantity  of  gold  in  circulation." ' 

A  typical  watering-place  like  Cleves  on  the  lower  Rhine 
was  counted  rather  expensive,  and  the  following  were  the 
prices  in  the  last  decade  of  the  eighteenth  century:  "To 
prevent  any  imposition,  but  those  sanctioned  de  part  le  Rot, 
the  late  King  authorized  a  set  of  regulations  respecting  the 
price  of  rooms,  meals,  wines,  etc.  According  to  these,  you 
may  sleep  comfortably  for  five  guilders  (about  nine  shil- 
lings) per  week;  breakfast  for  six-pence;  dine  for  sixteen; 
sup  for  twelve;  have  a  bottle  of  decent  Rhenish  wine,  con- 
taining three  pints,  for  eighteen,  and  of  Moselle  for  sixteen.'*  * 

At  Hamburg,  one  of  the  wealthiest  cities  in  Germany, 
"the  common  price  for  dinner  at  an  inn,"  says  Mariana 
Starke,  "is  two  marks  a  head."  ^ 



In  the  Low  Countries,  as  already  noted,  the  mere  cost  of 
living  made  a  moderate  demand  upon  the  tourist's  purse. 
James  Essex  dined  one  day  in  1773  on  the  barge  plying  be- 
tween Bruges  and  Ghent.  The  dinner  served  for  twelve 
people  cost  fifteen  pence  each  and  was  a  very  elaborate 
meal,  with  a  first  course  of  soup,  boiled  beef,  stewed  peas, 
French  beans  stewed,  and  herrings  pickled  on  greens. 
The  second  course  included  roast  mutton,  veal,  fowls, 
"soals,"  and  stewed  veal.  Then  followed  apricots,  plums, 
pears,  "biskits,"  "crumplins,"  filberts,  butter  and  cheese.^ 

When  compared  with  the  fashionable  inns  of  London  the 
highest  priced  inns  of  Holland  were  inexpensive.  One 
could  live  at  the  best  inns  of  The  Hague,  which  compared 
favorably  with  any  in  Europe,  for  five  or  six  shillings  a  day. 
But  in  London  at  the  King's  Arms  in  Pall  Mall  or  at 
Pontac's  in  the  City  * '  it  requires  good  economy  to  come  off 
for  fifteen  shillings  or  a  guinea  a  day."  ^  And  this  before 
1750.  A  generation  or  more  later,  in  commenting  on  the 
charges  at  Dutch  inns,  the  English  tourist  Pratt  remarks: 
"Leaving  you,  however,  .  .  .  undefended  amongst  the 
Hollanders,  you  would  not  so  soon  be  swallowed  up  as  by 
the  English."  ^ 

Private  lodgings  at  The  Hague  were  about  as  expensive 
as  in  London,  but  not  so  well  furnished  or  so  comfortable  in 
winter.  "The  stranger  at  The  Hague  may  generally  board 
in  the  house  where  he  lodges,  which  is  no  small  conveniency 
to  such  as  are  not  obliged  to  dress  and  go  abroad  every 
day.  He  pays  a  shilling  for  his  dinner,  or  midmal,  as  they 
call  it,  and  is  sure  of  two  or  three  good  dishes."  * 


After  a  certain  point  expense  is  so  purely  a  personal 
matter  that  generalization  becomes  difficult,  for  the  outlay 
varies  according  to  the  tastes  and  the  fortune  of  the  tour- 
ist. Particularly  is  this  true  in  estimating  the  allowance 
for  beggars.  In  the  Low  Countries  and  in  most* of  Ger- 
many beggary  was  rare,  but  in  Paris,  in  Lyons,  in  Tus- 



cany,  in  the  Papal  States,  and  in  the  Kingdom  of  Naples 
wretched  shadows  of  humanity,  emaciated,  deformed,  cov- 
ered with  loathsome  sores,  might  be  encountered  at  every 
church  door,  while  able-bodied  mendicants  infested  the 
highways  and  the  city  squares,  and  descended  in  vociferous 
swarms  upon  the  tourist  intent  upon  some  ancient  ruin. 
English  travelers  in  particular  were  regarded  as  the  surest 
resource  of  the  "lame  and  the  lazy."  So  marked  was  the 
difference  between  the  gaunt  destitution  of  Ital}'-  and  the 
sleek  comfort  of  England  that  every  eighteenth-century 
English  tourist  noted  as  a  matter  of  course  the  one  social 
condition  that  most  impressed  him. 

After  the  traveler  had  escaped  the  ordinary  beggars  of 
the  street  he  had  still  to  deal  with  the  hotel  servants,  with 
the  postilions,  and  the  luggage  porters.  With  the  ordinary 
servants  of  the  inn  the  well-instructed  tourist  had  little 
trouble.  For  a  day's  service  he  bestowed  a  few  coppers  or 
the  smallest  silver  coin  upon  the  head  waiter  and  gave  "a 
trifle  to  the  gate  porter."  But  the  inexperienced  tourist 
dealt  out  rewards  with  lavish  hand  to  the  troops  of 
servants  gathered  at  the  inn  door  when  the  coach  drew 
up  for  departure.  Then  came  the  turn  of  the  luggage 
carriers,  who  were  frequently  not  connected  at  all  with 
the  inn. 

Particularly  in  France  and  Italy  were  these  harpies  a 
plague.  Both  on  the  arrival  and  the  departure  of  the  coach 
these  volunteer  porters  followed  and  pestered  the  traveler, 
quarreling  over  the  privilege  of  carrying  his  luggage  and 
making  their  charges  as  high  as  they  dared.  Trained  from 
infancy  in  the  arts  of  extortion  these  greedy  cormorants 
were  never  satisfied,  and  affected  dissatisfaction  with  the 
most  liberal  gratuity  if  they  saw  any  prospect  of  exacting 

If  the  tourist  was  traveling  in  his  own  coach,  he  might 
expect  at  every  stop  to  have  a  blacksmith  come  prying 
about  the  carriage  and  the  horses;  and  unless  the  fellow 
was  thoroughly  incompetent  he  might  be  trusted  to  find  a 
nut  or  a  bolt  missing  or  a  shoe  that  required  resetting. 



His  own  work  was  usually  so  badly  done  as  to  insure  a  job 
to  somebody  in  another  town.^ 

Little  better  than  licensed  beggary  were  the  exactions  of 
pampered  menials  in  high  station.  In  Milan,  says  Keys- 
ler,  writing  of  the  state  of  things  about  1730,  "The  present 
governor  is  a  strict  economist,  and  has  but  few  guests. 
He  is  also  difficult  of  access  to  foreigners,  who  are  here  sub- 
ject to  another  inconvenience,  that,  after  only  paying  their 
respects  to  him,  without  eating  or  drinking,  a  multitude  of 
domestics,  as  the  harbinger,  gentleman,  trumpeter,  porter, 
etc.,  even  to  the  countess's  woman,  placing  themselves  in 
the  way,  crowd  about  them  for  money,  and  a  stranger 
cannot  get  rid  of  these  genteel  beggars  under  several  louis 
d'ors."  2 

At  Rome,  too,  one  drawback  to  accepting  any  social 
courtesies  was  the  tax  afterwards  levied  upon  the  guests. 
"It  is  not  difficult,"  says  Keysler,  "to  get  acquainted  with 
some  of  the  cardinals,  and  they  are  not  backward  in  receiv- 
ing visits ;  but  nothing,  however,  is  saved  by  it :  For  the  car- 
dinal's servants  are  sure  to  make  the  guests  pay  dearly  for 
his  entertainment ;  and  so  mean  spirited  are  these  fellows, 
that  if  the  very  next  day  after  a  visit  a  person  enters  their 
master's  house  again,  they  surround  him  soliciting  a  h{u)ona 
mano,  or  gratuity.  It  is  the  same  if  one  goes  to  a  concert,  or 
a  party  ^t  play,  or  on  receiving  the  most  trivial  civility  at 
any  house."  ^ 

De  La  Lande  found  a  similar  state  of  things:  "Stran- 
gers complain  much  in  England  of  the  practice  of  the 
domestics,  who,  after  dinner,  arrange  themselves  at 
the  door  to  receive  each  a  gift  from  all  those  who  have 
eaten  with  their  master.  In  Italy  there  is  something  of 
the  sort,  though  less  burdensome.  As  soon  as  a  stranger 
has  been  presented  in  a  house,  even  without  having  eaten 
there,  one  of  the  servants  comes  the  next  morning  in 
the  name  of  all  the  others  to  pay  his  compliments,  and 
the  custom  is  to  give  him  at  least  a  tester  (thirty-two 
sous)  or  more,  according  to  the  rank  of  the  person  who 
has  been  presented.    As  many  visits  as  you  pay,  so  many 



testers  must  you  give,  without  counting  what  you  give 
for  seeing  the  apartments  and  pictures  of  the  house.*  .  .  . 
On  New  Year's  Day,  in  the  month  of  August,  and  when 
one  is  ready  to  depart,  one  receives  similar  compHments, 
and  is  obHged  to  bestow  like  gifts:  but,  for  all  that,  it 
costs  much  less  than  in  England."  ^ 

The  number  of  servants  that  the  tourist  regularly  kept 
in  his  employ  was  naturally  regarded  as  a  good  index  of 
his  wealth  and  social  importance.  Even  though  he  might 
not  have  taken  a  servant  abroad  with  him,  his  first  care 
on  arriving  at  Paris  or  Turin  or  Rome,  if  he  wished  to 
maintain  his  social  position,  was  to  secure  one  or  more 
attendants  —  at  least  a  valet,  and  a  footman.  A  man 
of  high  quality  was  expected  to  maintain  his  rank  by 
keeping  a  troop  of  lackeys.  The  Earl  of  Carlisle,  writing 
from  Naples  in  1768,  complains  to  Selwyn:  "These 
cursed  feasts  will  ruin  me  in  servants.  I  am  forced  to 
have  seven  here,  and  have  another  on  the  road.  Though 
I  hope  soon  to  dismiss  some  of  mine,  yet  the  house  can- 
not well  be  too  large,  as  we  shall  not  have  less  than  thir- 
teen or  fourteen  servants."  ' 

Another  necessity  for  tourists  of  high  social  standing 
—  at  Paris,  at  Turin,  at  Rome,  at  Naples,  at  Vienna  — 
was  a  carriage.  The  expense  naturally  varied  with  the 
city.  In  Paris,  "where  all  the  genteel  English  .  .  .  keep 
a  carriage,"  it  was  rarely  more  than  twelve  guineas  a 
month.  "They  will  make  a  demand  tjpon  you  for  a 
shilling  a  day  for  the  coachman;  but  this  is  a  mere  im- 
position upon  a  stranger,  and  contrived  between  the 
master  of  the  coach  and  your  servant,  to  whom  he  gives 
a  shilling  a  day."  * 

One  who  actively  participated  in  the  social  life  of  the 
upper  classes  on  the  Continent  found  himself  almost 
inevitably  drawn  into  expensive  pastimes.  Gambling, 
great  and  small,  betting  of  every  sort,  was  the  common 
form  of  entertainment  in  the  upper  ranks  of  society  through- 
out Europe  in  the  generation  preceding  the  French  Revo- 
lution.   In  London  it  was  the  curse  of  the  nobility.    "At 



Almack's,"  notes  Walpole  in  1770,  "the  young  men  of 
the  age  lose  five,  ten,  fifteen  thousand  pounds  of  an  even- 
ing." ^  When  these  young  men  went  abroad  they  found 
card  tables  at  every  evening  assembly  and  they  con- 
tinued their  gaming  as  a  matter  of  course.  Charles  James 
Fox  dissipated  a  tolerable  fortune  at  Naples  and  Spa 
when  he  toured  the  Continent  as  a  gay  young  macaroni. 
The  ordinary  gambling  that  served  to  while  away  an 
idle  social  hour  in  France  or  Italy  laid  no  heavy  burden 
upon  young  men  of  prudence,  but  those  who  regularly 
participated  in  the  universal  sport  added  month  by  month 
no  small  item  to  their  expense  account.  Those  who  de- 
clined to  share  in  games  of  chance  found  themselves 
as  a  rule  out  of  harmony  with  their  company. 

The  average  tourist,  as  we  have  elsewhere  remarked, 
was  not  especially  keen  to  enjoy  the  society  of  the  Con- 
tinent, but  his  pride  would  not  permit  him  to  be  singu- 
lar in  his  dress  and  in  his  lack  of  conformity  to  social 
conventions.  Very  curious  are  the  details  in  the  guide- 
books of  the  time.  Note  the  following  advice,  addressed 
to  the  English  in  Paris  in  the  year  1770:  "For  dress- 
ing hair,  never  give  more  than  six  livres  per  month.  La- 
dies give  twelve  to  be  drest  in  the  highest  mode ;  and  both 
gentlemen  and  ladies  are  drest  every  day." 

Within  comparatively  narrow  limits  one  could  estimate 
before  leaving  home  the  cost  of  one's  wardrobe:  "One 
great  article  of  expense  at  Paris  is  cloaths.  You  will 
meet  no  where  with  greater  cheats  than  the  French  tay- 
lors,  it  is  therefore  my  advice  to  you  to  buy  everything 
yourself;  and,  even  at  the  merchant's,  be  very  cautious 
not  to  give  so  much  as  they  ask  you.  For  making  a  plain 
smt  of  cloaths,  you  give  eighteen  shillings,  and  for  the 
richest  laced  cloaths  thirty  shillings.  The  suits  most 
generally  used  are  velvet,  silk,  and  plain  cloth.  A  black 
velvet  suit,  with  very  rich  gold  waistcoat,  will  cost  you 
sixteen  guineas,  making  and  all.  A  silk  suit,  nine  guineas. 
A  cloth  suit,  lined  with  silk,  six  guineas  and  a  half.  Each 
of   these  suits  have  two  pair  of   breeches.     If   you  use 



gold  trimmings,  fur  lining,  or  lace,  as  I  advise  you  to 
buy  the  articles  from  the  merchant,  you  will  see,  and  be 
a  judge  of,  the  additional  expence.  But  if  the  cloaths 
here  mentioned,  which  are  such  as  are  usually  bought 
at  Paris,  cost  you  a  greater  price  than  is  here  set  down, 
you  will  be  imposed  upon."  ^ 

What  one  purchased  abroad  naturally  varied  with 
the  taste  and  the  means  of  the  tourist.  To  return  from 
Italy  or  France  with  nothing  characteristically  Italian 
or  French  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  The  rich  young 
Englishman  usually  bought  a  picture  or  two,  some  mo- 
saics, a  clever  statue,  and  perhaps  what  he  took  to  be 
antiquities;  for  the  eighteenth  century  was  notable  for 
collections  of  every  sort,  and  the  collector  had  been  taught 
in  his  youth  to  admire  the  works  of  art  brought  from 
Italy  by  earlier  tourists.  So  assiduous  were  the  Eng- 
lish in  gathering  ciniosities  that  the  Romans  used  to  say, 
"Were  our  Amphitheatre  portable,  the  English  would 
carry  it  off."  Unfortunately,  in  nothing  does  expert 
knowledge  count  for  more  than  in  the  purchase  of  pic- 
tures, statues,  coins,  vases.  In  such  transactions  the 
unwary  Englishman  was  the  easy  prey  of  the  glib  de- 
ceiver. He  filled  great  boxes  with  sham  antiques,  with 
Raphaels  and  Domenichinos  and  Andrea  del  Sartos 
manufactured  by  some  dauber  in  the  galleries  and  with 
touching  confidence  shipped  them  to  his  ancestral  halls 
in  England. 

Misson  enumerates  the  specialties  of  various  Italian 
cities  that  one  might  advantageously  buy:  At  Rome, 
prints,  paintings,  maps,  plans  of  towns,  perfumes,  gloves, 
etc.;  at  Naples,;  "Stockings,  Waistcoats,  Breeches,  Caps, 
and  other  Works  of  Silk;  perfum'd  Soap,  Snuff-boxes 
of  Shell  inlaid  with  Silver,  good  Spanish  Snuff";  at  Venice, 
"Points.  All  sorts  of  Works  in  Glass  and  Crystal:  Snuff- 
boxes; Silk  Stuffs;  Fine  Scarlet."  ^ 

French  ingenuity  and  artistic  skill  supplied  all  Europe 
with  "books,  watches,  engravings,  tea-cups,  snuff-boxes, 
buckles,  dressing  gowns,  etc."  ^     Caution,  however,  was 




i  ///'<*/-/ //Vv A/  /irrf-mJifueTiTri;  rv/tx-^^r  Jajiiter  Tfixiaiaa,  «»r  A^exru* 

i£/Ae'J€atui  o/ tJt4i^  Apollo  <?/\pi*lplu>if . 

4  £/^-    Cu//Jft/vc  U/h  ^y  'o/^f^J  JiJii^t  Hercule. . 

J  ^^>4^  Cadoceitf  <^Mereuriuit   iuteznalK  . 


necessary  in  buying  anything.  Shopkeepers,  particularly 
in  Paris  and  in  Naples,  added  to  their  incomes  and  to 
the  tourist's  discomfort  by  extortionate  charges.  As 
for  Paris,  "There  is  nothing,"  we  are  told,  "which  a 
stranger  ought  to  be  more  careful  of  .  .  .  particularly 
an  Englishman,  than  laying  out  his  money;  for  he  will 
never  go  to  buy  anything,  even  of  the  most  trifling  nature, 
in  which  they  will  not  attempt  to  cheat  him."  ^  His 
rule  should  therefore  be  never  to  give  more  than  a  third 
of  the  price  first  demanded. 

Smollett  says  of  the  dealers  in  Paris  that  the  most 
reputable  of  them  "think  it  no  disgrace  to  practice  the 
most  shameful  imposition.  "^  Smollett  is  a  chronic  fault- 
finder, but  an  English  traveler  of  more  equable  temper, 
touring  in  1814  through  France,  visiting  Dieppe,  Paris, 
Lyons,  the  Pyrenees,  and  returning  through  Toulouse, 
assumes  the  facts  to  be  well  known  and  attempts  an  ex- 
planation: "The  rapacity  with  which  they  (the  French) 
attack  the  purses  of  English  travellers  is  the  commercial 
spirit  in  the  only  way  in  which  it  can  at  present  exert 
itself.  The  higgling  disposition  of  the  French,  which  is 
so  teazing  to  strangers,  arises  from  their  way  of  living; 
—  buying  their  daily  food  almost  by  the  mouthful :  a 
handftil  of  spinach,  a  cucumber,  a  little  fruit;  the  value 
small,  but  uncertain,  and  of  course  subject  to  perpetual 
bargaining.  If  you  are  obliged  to  higgle  about  a  sous, 
you  will  naturally  do  the  same  in  greater  matters:  and 
thus  it  becomes  habitual."  ' 

But  Birkbeck's  party  appears  on  the  whole  to  have 
suffered  little  from  overcharges,  for  he  goes  on  to  say: 
"Our  party,  consisting  of  Mr.  G.,  Flower,  myself,  and 
my  son,  a  youth  of  fifteen,  performed  the  journey  for 
£70  sterling  each  person,  including  all  our  expenses,  ex- 
cepting a  few  purchases  which  had  no  relation  to  travel- 
ling. We  had  no  servant,  and  were  tolerably  attentive  to 
economy."  * 

On  this  trip  they  were  gone  eighty-six  days  and  spent 
on  an  average  sixteen  or  seventeen  shillings  a  day.     A 



writer  more  than  a  generation  earlier  maintained  with- 
out hesitation  that  a  heavy  outlay  for  travel  in  France 
was  largely  due  to  one's  folly.  This  we  may  well  believe, 
though  we  see  that  incidental  items  multiplied  greatly 
and  almost  inevitably  the  cost  of  one's  tour. 




We  are  now  prepared  to  follow  a  typical  tour  and  to 
view  more  closely  some  of  the  countries  that  most  at- 
tracted the  tourist.  Where  to  go  and  what  to  see  was  not 
easy  to  decide  offhand  for  one's  self.  But  fashion  had 
much  to  do  with  the  choice  of  the  places  visited  and 
relieved  the  tourist  of  the  necessity  for  over-anxious 
thought  about  the  matter.  In  our  day,  the  average 
tourist,  in  theory  at  least,  shapes  his  tour  on  the  Con- 
tinent about  as  he  pleases,  with  little  reference  to  pre- 
scribed custom,  and  unless  he  joins  a  personally  con- 
ducted party  following  routes  that  have  been  well  beaten 
for  centuries,  he  is  as  likely  as  not  to  go  into  many  out- 
of-the-way  comers.  But  a  century  or  two  ago,  although 
many  travelers  drifted  somewhat  aimlessly,  the  far  larger 
proportion  charted  their  course  with  some  care  before 
they  left  home  and  selected  places  that  had  an  established 

On  one  matter  eighteenth-century  tourists  were  prac- 
tically all  agreed,  and  that  was  that  a  grand  tour  on 
the  Continent  without  a  visit  to  Italy  was  no  grand  tour 
at  all.  Any  one,  however,  who  went  to  Italy  generally 
spent  time  enough  on  the  way  thither  and  on  the  way 
home  to  get  a  fair  general  acquaintance  with  France 
and  Germany  and  the  Low  Countries. 

In  the  eighteenth  century,  as  in  our  time,  certain  cities 
stood  out  as  preeminent,  and  these,  or  some  of  them, 
must  be  visited  by  any  one  who  pretended  to  make  the 
grand  tour.  Whatever  else  could  be  viewed  along  the 
route  was  clear  gain,  but  of  places  of  minor  interest  there 



were  at  best  very  large  omissions.  Accordingly,  a  few 
cities  —  Paris,  Turin,  Venice,  Florence,  Rome,  Naples, 
Vienna,  Dresden,  Berlin,  Amsterdam  —  to  cite  a  few  out 
of  many,  really  determined  the  tourist's  route,  for  the 
path  he  followed  was  commonly  the  one  that  led  most 
directly  from  one  great  center  to  another. 

In  part,  this  limitation  of  travel  to  conventional  routes 
was  a  necessity.  One  might,  indeed,  imagine  that  at 
a  time  when  nearly  all  land  travel  was  by  carriage  p. 
good  many  places  that  now  appear  somewhat  inacces- 
sible would  have  seemed  easy  to  reach.  We  forget  that 
a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  one  necessarily  spent  from 
live  to  eight  or  even  ten  times  as  many  hours  in  cover- 
ing a  given  distance  as  is  now  the  case  when  one  is  hurled 
at  dizzy  speed  to  one's  destination.  The  grand  tour  at 
best  consimied  in  mere  joumej-ing  a  very  long  time, 
much  of  which  must  be  spent  upon  the  road  and  in  little 
wayside  inns  of  painfully  modest  pretensions.  There 
was,  moreover,  so  much  to  be  seen  on  the  conventional 
tour  that  time  was  lacking  for  making  experiments.  It 
must  be  admitted,  too,  that  for  the  most  part  tourists 
manifested  little  desire  to  \nsit  places  off  the  beaten 
track.  Their  interest  in  ^-ild  scenery  was  very  small, 
and  their  attention  was  very  fully  absorbed  by  the  cities 
of  European  reputation.  Of  the  country  they  saw  more 
than  enough  on  the  way  from  one  town  to  another. 

We  must  remember  that  the  eighteenth  century,  to 
a  remarkable  degree,  delighted  in  social  life.  Zimmer- 
man might  write  a  large  book  on  solitude,  and  Cowper 
might  sigh  for  a  lodge  in  some  vast  wilderness,  but  there 
is  little  e\'idence  that  voluntary  recluses  were  much 
more  numerous  than  they  are  to-day. 

To  a  considerable  extent  travel  throughout  Europe 
followed  the  lines  of  the  immemorial  trade  routes.  These 
ancient  paths  had  been  established  by  necessity,  often 
passing  through  valleys  determined  by  high  mountain- 
barriers,  and  connecting  cities  whose  prosperity  was 
foreordained    by    their    situation  —  a    seaport,    a    town 



at  the  junction  of  two  rivers.  The  choice  of  the  tour- 
ist's route  was,  obviously,  in  considerable  measure  de- 
termined by  the  topography  of  the  country,  by  the  state 
of  the  roads,  by  the  relative  convenience  or  safety  of 
travel  by  land  and  by  water,  and  by  the  situation  of  the 
places  deemed  best  worth  a  visit.  With  these  cities  in 
view  he  mapped  out  his  route  and  on  the  way  took  in 
such  other  places  as  he  could  without  too  much  trouble. 
In  the  space  that  we  can  allow  it  is  clearly  imprac- 
ticable to  attempt  to  rival  an  eighteenth-century  guide- 
book by  describing,  or  even  enumerating,  one  by  one 
the  towns  that  tourists  visited.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
to  give  no  account  of  the  most  typical  points  of  interest 
would  result  in  dealing  with  mere  generalities.  We  may, 
therefore,  select  some  characteristic  cities  and  towns  on 
the  most  traveled  routes  and  endeavor  in  a  few  words  to 
point  out  what  were  their  special  features  of  attraction. 


Practically  every  Englishman  who  went  abroad  trav- 
eled more  or  less  in  France.  In  fact,  unless  he  entered 
the  Continent  by  way  of  Hamburg  or  through  the  Low 
Countries,  or  wandered  far  out  of  the  ordinary  paths 
by  sailing  for  a  Mediterranean  port,  he  could  not  easily 
escape  going  through  France,  even  had  he  so  desired. 

But  France  was  peculiarly  alluring  to  most  English- 
men. Any  one  with  a  little  time  to  spare  could  make  a 
considerable  tour  there  without  great  trouble  or  expense. 
One  had  only  to  slip  across  the  Channel  to  find  one's 
self  amidst  a  civilization  strangely  fascinating,  and  un- 
like what  was  to  be  seen  at  home.  Tourists  from  every 
part  of  Europe  trooped  into  France  —  Spaniards,  Italians, 
Germans,  Russians,  Swedes,  Hollanders;  for  French 
manners  were  the  most  polished,  French  cookery  the 
most  exquisite,  French  conversation  the  most  brilliant, 
French  literature  the  most  entertaining.  By  going  to 
France  one  came  in  contact  with  international  culture. 



For  yCvirs  before  the  Revolution  France  was  a  doli>;ht- 
fiil  place  for  English  tourists,  especially  for  those  \v!\o 
belonged  within  tlie  channed  circle  of  society.  Every- 
thing English  was  in  favor,  and  visiting  Englishmen,  like 
Gibbon  and  Hume  and  Garrick.  received  the  most  marked 
attentions.  Frenchmen  gave  themselves  to  the  sineerest 
t\'pe  of  flattery  —  imitation,  and  stRn'e.  acaM'ding  to 
their  light,  to  transform  themselves  into  Englishmen. 
They  "read  Shakespeare;  drank  tea;  da^ssed  like  jockeys, 
imported  race-horses;  set  up  English  clubs  and  had  ii>?- 
sctttblies  h  I'anghise  destructive  of  the  old  French  salon."' 
Smollett  in  176^^  observed  with  satisfaction  that  the  French 
were  begimung  to  imitate  the  English  in  simpler  ihvss  and 
in  the  use  of  cold  baths.  James  Edward  Smith  noted  in 
17S6  that  "the  prevailing  sentiments  of  most  ranks  were 
much  in  favour  of  the  English,  as  the  wonderful  adoption 
of  our  tastes  and  fashions  of  late  years  ai\d  the  avidity 
with  which  our  publications  were  read. abundantly  evince."^ 
Arthur  Youiv.^  in  his  Tri.::'cls^  commetUs  on  the  new  fashion, 
borrowed  from  England,  of  passing  some  time  in  the  coun- 
try. We  must  note,  however,  with  Leslie  Stephen,  that  this 
imitation  of  English  ways  by  Frenchmen  trained  to  a  very 
different  type  of  living  was  "ridiculous  because  superficial."  * 

But  the  fact  that  France  saw  so  much  that  was  at- 
tractive in  English  customs  and  habits  not  unnaturally 
made  France  more  delightful  to  Englishmen,  and  when 
they  sought  a  change  of  air  and  scene  they  swarmed 
across  the  Channel  in  great  numbers.  They  went  to 
Paris '  as  a  matter  of  course,  but  they  also  distributed 
themselves  u-idely  throughout  the  country.  After  the 
Seven  Years'  War  it  became  increasingly  the  fashion  to 
run  over  to  the  Continent  for  a  brief  round  of  travel, 
with  no  intention  of  making  the  elaborate  grand  tour. 
That  was  imderstood  to  be  the  aiTiiir  of  a  young  man. 
and  it  was  made  once  in  a  lifetime.  But  a  short  and  rel- 
atively inexpensive  circular  tour  through  the  Low  Coun- 
tries or  a  comer  of  France  involved  no  great  preparation 
and  interfered  little  with  one's  ordinary  affairs  at  home. 



Not  only  the  easy  accessibility  of  France,  but  the 
cheapness  of  living  as  compared  with  Enj^land,  marie 
it  popular  with  people  of  morJerate  incomes.  Even  Eng- 
lishwomen who  were  accustomed  to  comfort  at  home 
found  the  Continental  tour  agreeable,  and  spent  a  good 
deal  of  time  in  France.  The  Dowager  Countess  of  Carlisle, 
for  example,  made  a  long  sojourn  at  Aix,  at  Nlmes,  at 
Avignon,  and  at  Beaucaire.  In  her  letters  she  gives 
interesting  details  of  her  life  in  Provence.' 

Partly  for  learning  the  French  language  and  French 
manners,  and  partly  for  economy,  many  English  people 
resided  for  years  in  various  French  towns,  remaining  in 
one  place  as  long  as  they  were  satisfied  and  then  moving 
on  to  another.  A  good  instance  of  the  moderately  well- 
to-do  type  is  afforded  by  Lady  Knight.  From  1778  to 
1786  she  was  in  Italy.  In  178O  she  went  by  way  of  Mar- 
seilles to  Avignon  and  there  remained  several  months.  At 
Nimes  she  resided  nearly  a  year.  Another  change  took 
her  to  Vienne;  and  then,  in  1789,  she  withdrew  from 
troubled  France  to  Italy. 

Before  the  middle  of  the  century  Lady  Mary  Wortley 
Montagu,  writing  from  Dijon,  says,  with  pardonable  exag- 
geration: "There  is  not  any  town  in  France  where  there 
are  not  English,  Scotch,  or  Irish  families  established. 
Here  are  in  this  town  no  loss  than  sixteen  English  families 
of  fashion."  2  She  had  difficulty  in  selecting  an  out-of-the- 
way  town  in  France  where  she  might  meet  her  scapegrace 
son  without  being  "likely  to  find  any  English,"  and  where 
he  might  if  he  pleased  "be  quite  unknown;  which  is  hardly 
possible  in  any  capital  town  either  of  France  or  Italy."  ' 
She  finally  selected  Valence. 

Once  a  place  had  established  itself  in  the  favor  of  the 
English,  it  continued  to  draw  other  Englishmen,  for  there 
one  might  expect  to  find  not  merely  one's  countrymen  but 
also  inns,  and  sometimes  houses  to  rent,  that  were  intended 
to  satisfy  the  demands  of  hurried,  fault-finding  tourists  and 
of  well-to-do  families  making  a  protracted  stay. 

But  the  comforts  they  sought  were  by  no  means  every- 



whoro  nttaAiiaMc.  Sotiio  of  tho  citio??  atu!  towtis  of  Fraticc. 
up  to  tho  time  of  tho  Rovohitiot\.  woiv  anioiii:  tho  most 
luxurious  and  splondid  \n  V.uvopc,  but  luauv  parts  of  tho 
oountry  woa^  sunk  in  nusory.  Lady  Mary  Wortloy  Mon- 
tagu's piotun"  of  tho  dostitution  in  1718  is  pitiful,  and  it 
accurately  doscribos  tho  co>nditions  in  many  small  commu- 
nittos  two  generations  later.  She  mentions  tho  "objects 
of  nusery"  that  one  commonly  mot  and  adds  that  "all  the 
country  \nllai:es  of  Franco  show  nothing  olso.  While  tjio 
post-horses  are  changed,  the  whole  town  eomes  out  to  beg, 
with  such  miserable  starved  faces,  and  thin  tattered  olothcs, 
they  need  no  other  eloquence  to  persuade  one  of  the  wri^tch- 
cdness  of  their  conditio!!."^  An  English  tourist  in  177J, 
contrasting  France  with  Holland,  might  almost  seem  to  bo 
cop^nng  Lady  ^La^y:  "The  whole  kingdom  swanns  \nth 
beggars,  an  ONndonco  of  poverty,  as  well  as  defect  in  the 
laws.  This  observation  was  continued  at  every  inn  I 
came  to.  by  crowds  of  wa^tches.  I  have  often  passed  from 
the  inn-door  to  my  chaise  through  a  tile  of  twenty  or  thirty 
of  them."  ' 

To  Englishnien.  indivd.  not\\'ithstanding  the  la\-ish  dis- 
play of  wealth  in  favored  centers.  Fratiee  as  a  whole  seemed 
poor.  Horace  Walpolo  characteristically  writes  to  Conway 
in  1 771:  "The  instamv  of  their  poverty  that  strikes  we 
niost.  who  make  political  observations  by  the  thonnometer 
of  baubles,  is.  that  there  is  nothing  new  in  their  shops.  I 
know  the  faces  of  every  snufnx'>x  aiul  ever>-  tea-cup  as  well 
as  those  of  ^Ladanlo  du  Lac  and  Monsieur  Poirier."  * 

Into  this  state  of  chronic  poverty  Franco,  as  we  ha\e 
elsewhere  seen,  had  gradually  sunk  in  the  course  of  the 
long  n.ngt\  of  Louis  XIV.  The  recovery  was  as  the 
eighteenth  century  progressed,  and  did  not  bring  prosperity 
to  all  parts  of  the  country  alike.  Even  the  French  cities, 
though  often  picturesque  and  fascinating  from  the  modern 
point  of  Nncw.  commonly  presented  in  their  older  quarters  a 
network  of  dark,  narrow,  dirty  alleys  and  sttvets  oooupied 
by  a  poverty-stricken  population.  ]\Lany  of  the  surx^iving 
ancient  portions  of  Dinant,  of  Evreux,  of  Vitr«5,  of  Rouen 


TOUK   OF   Fi<ANCK   AM)   Si'AJN 

—  though  now  more  t;cnjj;ulou:;ly  clcanr^d  —  ,',how  what 
was  once  a  normal  urhan  tyi>o. 

Those  who  know  the  flourishing'  city  of  Clermont-Fer- 
rand to-day,  with  the  farihionablc  waterinj^-j^Iaoe  Rr^yat  in 
the  suburbs,  may  be  int(;re;;ted  to  note  Arthur  Youn^''s 
impressions  of  the  place  in  1789:  "  Much  of  it  forms  one  of 
the  worst  built,  dirtiest,  and  most  stinkinp^  jJaces  I  have 
met  with.  There  are  many  streets  that  can,  for  blackness, 
dirt,  and  ill-scents  only  be  represented  by  narrow  channels 
cut  in  a  nij^ht-dunj^hill."  '  Similar  conditions  were  not 
rare  in  French  provincial  towns  and  may  have  tenrled  to 
check  the  exploratory  arrlor  of  the  not  too  eager  U^urist. 

Throughout  France  the  contrasts  were  strikin/^  Young 
speaks  of  "bridges  that  cost  70  or  80,000/.  and  immense 
caur^;ways,  to  connect  towns;  but,"  he  adds,  "what  trav- 
eller, with  his  person  surrounded  by  the  beggarly  filth  of  an 
inn  .   .   .  will  not  condemn  such  inconsistender;  as  folly?"  =! 

The  keen-sighted  Dr.  Moore  cautions  the  reader  who  is 
inclined  to  overrate  the  prosperity  of  France:  "To  retain  a 
favoura};le  notion  of  the  wealth  of  France,  we  re- 
main in  the  capital,  or  vi.sit  a  few  trading  or  manufacturing 
towns;  but  must  seldom  enter  the  chateau  of  the  Seigneur 
or  the  hut  of  the  pea.sant.  In  the  one  we  shall  find  nothing 
but  tawdry  furniture,  and  from  the  other  we  shall  be 
scared   by   penury."^ 

One  writer  in  1769  with  some  exaggeration  cxprcs.scs  the 
opinion  that  there  i:;  not  "in  all  France,  one  well  fed,  well 
cloathed,  warm,  and  substantial  husbandman  —  which,  of 
all  mankind,  is  U)  the  state  the  most  u.scful  memh>er."  '•  And 
Wyndham,  who  chiefly  aims  U)  gather  up  the  current 
opiniom  of  his  time,  presents  a  similar  view:  "Some  of  the 
princes  of  the  blood,  and  a  few  of  the  nobility,  are  more 
magnificent  in  their  palaces  and  equipages  than  any  of  the 
English;  but  the  other  ranks  of  life  are  despicable,  when 
compared  with  the  riches,  elegance,  and  opulence  of  the 
nobility  and  gentry  of  England,  even  those  of  an  inferior 
class."  6 




Invismuch  as  English  tourists  in  France  commonly  meant 
in  any  case  to  see  Paris,  there  will  be  advantage  in  point  of 
clearness  if  we  consider  first  the  trip  to  Paris,  with  a  glance 
at  a  few  places  on  the  way,  and  then  take  up  the  other 
portions  of  the  country.  But  at  best,  in  our  survey  of 
France,  we  can  touch  upon  only  a  few  representative 
towns  N\'ithout  attempting  to  rival  the  details  assembled  l*y 
Nugent  or  De  La  Force.  As  already  remarked,  to  write  a 
guide-book  to  eighteenth-century  France  is  no  part  of  our 

The  most  popular  way  of  going  to  Paris  from  London  was 
to  cross  the  Channel  from  Dover  to  Calais  and  then  to  drive 
down  through  Abbeville,  Amiens,  and  Chaniilly.  Many 
tourists  landed  at  Boulogne,  whence  they  joined  the  stream 
of  travel  from  Calais  to  Paris.  Still  others  from  various 
English  ports  landed  at  Ha\Te  or  Dieppe  and  proceeded 
through  Rouen  to  the  capital.  And  many  more  entered 
France  from  Brussels  and  other  points  in  the  Low  Countries. 

We  may  well  begin  \\4th  C:d;iis.  This  now  flourishing 
commercial  city  was  in  the  eighteenth  century  mainly  of 
interest  to  the  tomist  as  the  chief  gateway  to  France.  No 
Ruskin  had  arisen  to  point  out  the  dignity  and  rugged 
beauty  of  the  ancient  church  tower  of  Calais,  and  few 
tourists  spent  more  time  in  the  town  than  the  leisurely 
conditions  of  eighteenth-century  travel  required.  "The 
town,"  says  Nugent,  "is  small  and  consists  only  of  eight 
streets,  that  run  from  the  market-place.  But  as  this  is 
the  thoroughfare  of  the  English  in  time  of  peace  to  France 
and  Flanders,  the  place  is  pretty  populous."  * 

Boulogne,  farther  down  the  French  coast,  was  a  very 
didl  towm,  but  its  position  as  a  seaport  brought  a  good 
number  of  English  tourists  as  birds  of  passage.  The  mere 
sights  of  the  place  were  not  sufficient  to  detain  many  \asi- 
tors  beyond  a  few  hours,  but  the  convenience  of  access  to 
England  and  the  cheapness  of  living  made  the  quiet  old 



seaport  a  more  or  less  permanent  refuj^e  for  a  conr;iflerable 
colony  of  En;,;Hshmen,  many  of  whom  had  seen  better  days. 

On  the  way  from  Calais  or  Boulogne  to  Paris  one  passed 
through  old  Abbeville,  the  charm  of  which,  with  its  red- 
}.;abled  fronts  and  its  wealth  of  carving,  had  as  yet  hardly 
been  discovered.  Amiens  was  more  appreciated.  The 
situation  of  the  city  made  it  a  convenient  place  for  spend- 
ing the  night.  It  was  recommended  also  for  a  longer  stay, 
being  very  cheap  and  affording  excellent  opportunities  for 
learning  French.*  Few  Englishmen  passed  through  Amiens 
"  v/ithout  a  visit  to  the  cathedral,"  ^  and,  despite  its  Gothic 
architecture,  they  commonly  bestowed  upon  it  very  hearty 

Not  on  the  main  route  from  Calais  to  Paris,  but  a  con- 
venient halting-place  between  Paris  and  the  port  of  Dieppe, 
was  the  picturesque  city  of  Rouen,  which  was  certain  to  be 
visited  by  any  one  making  the  favorite  tour  of  Normandy. 
The  streets  were  narrow,  as  in  the  older  quarters  they  still 
are,  and  none  too  clean,  but  its  array  of  magnificent  build- 
ings and  its  historical  associations  brought  many  English 

Before  arriving  at  Paris  the  tourist  coming  from  Calais 
usually  passed  through  Chantilly  and  spent  at  least  a  little 
time  in  seeing  the  palace,  celebrated  for  its  magnificence, 
and  in  strolling  through  the  forest,  which,  with  its  many 
birds,  its  canals  and  fountains  and  cascades,  made  "this 
one  of  the  most  charming  places  upon  earth."  *  But  even 
Chantilly  sometimes  made  an  unpleasant  impression,  for 
here  was  a  trap  for  the  unwary.  ' '  Within  one  hundred  yards 
of  the  palace,"  says  Nugent,  "and  almost  adjoining  the 
stables,  is  the,  where  you  are  very  well  enter- 
tained, but  extravagantly  dear,  so  that  you  must  be  upon 
your  guard  in  ordering  dainties,  if  you  consult  economy."  '^ 

Those  who  followed  the  post-route  to  Paris  had  only  to 
see  vSaint-Denis,  with  its  great  abbey  containing  the  gor- 
geous royal  tombs,  and  then  they  entered  tho  caj^ital  of 
France,  which  was  in  a  sense  the  capital  of  Europe. 




Two  Continental  cities,  Paris  and  Rome,  were,  in  the 
estimation  of  the  eighteenth-century  tourist,  of  more  im- 
portance than  any  others ;  and  to  spend  much  time  abroad 
without  visiting  these  two  capitals  was  to  leave  the  best 
unseen.  A  great  city  like  Paris,  with  its  population  of  five 
or  six  hundred  thousand  inhabitants  ^  and  its  manifold 
attractions,  cannot  well  be  disposed  of  in  a  few  words,  but 
in  our  survey  details  must  largely  be  left  to  the  makers  of 
guide-books.  What  chiefly  concerns  us  is  the  impression 
that  the  city  as  a  whole  made  upon  English  tourists. 

The  fascination  that  Paris  had  for  all  types  of  minds 
before  the  French  Revolution  we  can  even  yet  in  a  measure 
understand.  But  in  the  eighteenth  century  more  truly, 
perhaps,  than  in  otu*  own  day,  Paris  was  France  and  the 
center  of  civilization.  Most  eighteenth-century  books  of 
travel  assumed  without  discussion  the  preeminence  of 
Paris  over  every  other  city  of  France,  and,  with  an  occa- 
sional reservation  on  some  detail,  over  every  other  city  of 
the  world.  Men  and  women  of  every  type  flocked  there  to 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  fashions  and  follies  that  all  strove 
to  copy.  To  many  Englishmen  Paris  was  the  only  thing 
worth  crossing  the  Channel  for,  particularly  if  they  had 
made  the  Continental  tour  in  their  youth.  Nowhere  else, 
at  all  events,  was  society  so  organized  as  to  concentrate 
all  the  talent  of  a  great  kingdom  in  one  spot. 

Paris  ministered  to  the  taste  of  travelers  of  every  sort  — 
to  the  scholar,  to  the  amateur  in  art,  to  the  lover  of  music, 
to  the  mere  pleasure-seeker.  Even  the  cautious  Andrews, 
in  his  "Letters  to  a  Young  Gentleman,"  ^  observes:  "At 
your  time  of  life,  Paris  will  in  some  respects  prove  a  more 
agreeable  abode  than  London.  You  will  in  particular  meet 
with  a  much  more  frequent  recurrence  of  sights  and  shews 
to  please  you." 

When  travel  was  not  interrupted  by  war  Englishmen  went 
there  in  droves  '  and  took  up  their  abode  for  some  weeks  or 


crowning  the  bust  of  voltaire  at  the 
theAtre  francais  in  1778 


months  in  the  fashionable  and  expensive  quarter  of  Saint- 
Germain.^  In  the  last  third  of  the  century  the  quarter  near 
the  Palais  Royal  and  the  Place  des  Victoires  was  also  pop- 
ular.2  Good  lodgings,  however,  were  expensive  and  not 
always  easy  to  get.  And  at  times  even  the  best  did  not  en- 
tirely satisfy  the  critical  tourist.  Most  Englishmen  found 
Paris  inferior  to  London  in  plain,  unpretending  comfort. 
Then  as  now,  and  far  more  than  now,  Parisian  houses  were 
cold  in  winter.  Walpole  writes  in  1767  to  George  Montagu: 
"  I  shall  not  think  of  my  journey  to  France  yet;  I  suf- 
fered too  much  with  the  cold  last  year  in  Paris,  where  they 
have  not  the  least  idea  of  comfortable,  but  sup  in  stone 
halls,  with  all  the  doors  open."  ^ 

In  any  case  the  process  of  getting  comfortably  settled  de- 
manded considerable  attention  from  the  tourist  at  the  out- 
set. But  the  makers  of  guide-books  gave  minute  "direc- 
tions for  strangers  upon  their  first  coming  to  Paris,"  to 
keep  them  from  going  astray:  "As  soon  as  you  enter  Paris, 
you  will  be  stopt  in  your  chaise,  and  your  pass  and  plumb- 
ings, and  every  corner  of  the  whole  chaise  will  be  examined. 
When  they  have  done,  you  order  the  postilion  to  drive  to 
the  hotel  you  intend  to  lodge  at ;  otherwise  he  will  endeavor 
to  carry  you  to  his  own  favourite  house,  which  has  him  in 
fee.  You  will  probably  be  followed  from  the  place  of  search, 
or  from  your  entrance  into  Paris,  to  your  hotel,  by  men-ser- 
vants out  of  place,  many  of  whom  can  speak  a  little  broken 
English,  and  have  generally  written  characters  in  their 
pockets  of  some  English  gentlemen  whom  they  have  served. 
You  may  venture  upon  one  whose  character  you  most 
approve  of,  and  let  him  immediately  begin  and  stay  with 
you,  and  assist  in  taking  off  your  trunks,  etc.,  but  do  not 
hire  him  till  the  next  day,  when  your  banker  or  correspond- 
ent is  along  with  you,  and  you  are  thoroughly  satisfied  as 
to  his  character.  Thirty  sols,  or  fifteen  pence  English  a 
day,  is  the  usual  wages,  out  of  which  he  finds  himself  in 
every  thing,  unless  you  give  him  a  livery."  ^ 

With  the  path  thus  smoothed,  the  most  timid  tourists 
could  hardly  fail  to  take  courage.    At  all  events  they  came. 



Walpole  complains,  in  September,  1765,  of  the  swarms  of 
English  in  the  city,  and  expresses  his  satisfaction  that 
most  of  them  are  going  away  soon.  "It  certainly  was  not 
my  countrymen  that  I  came  to  live  with,"  says  he.^ 

What  to  do  with  one's  time  in  Paris  was  in  part  a  matter 
of  individual  taste.  But  travelers  bent  upon  making  the 
conventional  tour  followed  the  lead  of  the  guide-books,  of 
which  even  then  there  was  no  lack.^  Nugent  suggests  an 
"Order  to  be  observed  in  seeing  the  curiosities  of  Paris": 
"You  may  begin,  then,  and  spend  three  whole  days  in 
seeing  the  Palace  Royal,  which  is  not  too  long  a  time  for 
examining  the  finest  collection  of  paintings  in  Europe.  The 
next  day  you  may  visit  the  Hotel  d'Antin,  and  that  of 
count  Toulouse.  Then  you  may  see  the  palace  of  the 
Tuilleries  and  the  Louvre,  the  square  called  Place  Venddme, 
and  the  Place  des  Victoires,  all  of  which  are  not  far  dis- 
tant from  one  another."  ^ 

Popular  as  Paris  was  with  Englishmen,  the  city  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  if  judged  by  modem  standards,  was 
far  from  being  a  paradise.  The  streets  had  for  generations 
had  an  unsavory  reputation  for  filth,*  and  their  indescrib- 
able odor  ^  could  be  detected  long  before  one  entered  the 
city.  One  tourist  in  1787  characterizes  the  air  in  several 
parts  of  Paris  and  the  environs  as  "abominably  fetid  and 
highly  putrid."  ^  Babeau  '  finds  the  streets  of  Paris  well 
cared  for.  But  such  is  not  the  opinion  of  eighteenth-cen- 
tury travelers.^  Many  of  the  streets  were,  indeed,  well 
paved,  and  they  were  supposed  to  be  swept.  But  up  to  the 
time  of  the  Revolution  the  rubbish  and  sweepings  were  not 
regularly  collected  and  removed.  Unmentionable  vessels 
were  emptied  from  windows  at  night  into  the  streets,  and 
the  fragrance  in  the  morning  was  overpowering.  This 
practice  was,  of  course,  not  unknown  in  London.  But 
Paris  was  the  arbiter  of  fashion  and  propriety  for  the  rest 
of  the  world! 

As  Paris  had  no  footpaths,  the  mud  in  wet  weather  was 
spattered  upon  every  pedestrian  by  the  swiftly  driven  car- 
riages of  the  gentry.     Arthur  Young  comments  severely 




upon  the  usual  condition  of  the  streets  in  his  day:  "Walk- 
in^',  which  in  London  is  so  pleasant  and  so  clean  that  ladies 
do  it  every  day,  is  here  a  toil  and  a  fatigue  to  a  man,  and 
an  impossibility  to  a  well  dressed  woman.  The  coaches 
are  numerous,  and,  what  arc  much  worse,  there  are  an  in- 
finity of  one-horse  cabriolets,  which  are  driven  by  young 
men  of  fashion  and  their  imitators,  alike  fools,  with  such 
rapidity  as  to  be  real  nuisances,  and  render  the  streets  ex- 
ceedingly dangerous,  without  an  incessant  caution.  I  saw 
a  poor  child  run  over  and  probably  Icilled,  and  have  been 
myself  many  times  blackened  with  the  mud  of  the  kennels. 
Hence  all  persons  of  small  or  moderate  fortune  are  forced 
to  dress  in  black,  with  ?jlack  stockings."  *  Obviously, every 
stranger  of  any  social  pretensions  was  compelled  to  follow 
the  fashion  and  make  frequent  use  of  carriages,  though  the 
charges  were  high  ^  and  the  quality  low.  Throughout  most 
of  the  century  rigid  custom  prescribed  that  a  well-born 
tourist  who  spent  some  little  time  in  any  of  the  larger  Con- 
tinental cities  should  have  a  coach,  a  coachman,  and  a 
lackey,  and  that  after  a  certain  hour  he  should  not  appear  in 
the  streets  without  a  cane  in  his  hand  and  his  hat  under 
his  arm.  Broadly  speaking,  this  rule  was  not  relaxed  until 
the  French  Revolution,  though  a  growing  simplicity  of 
attire  marked  the  last  quarter  of  the  century,  particularly 
among  those  who  strove  for  new  effects. 

But  although  the  streets  of  Paris  were  narrow  and  not 
too  clean,  they  had  long  had  throughout  Europe  a  reputa- 
tion for  being  exceptionally  well  lighted  at  night.^  And  so 
they  were,  in  comparison  with  most  Continental  cities, 
with  "some  eight  thousand  candles  in  damaged  lanterns, 
which  went  out  every  now  and  then  with  a  gust  and  left 
all  in  darkness."  "  By  1785  these  had  given  place  to  the 
argand  cyHnder  lamps  or  "lampes  ang^Hques";  which,  as 
a  delighted  eontemporary  notes,  produced  "an  astonishing 
brightness,  without  smoke."  ^ 

Every  city  has  its  unattractive  sides,  which  expose  it  to 
criticism.  In  the  eighteenth  century  Englishmen  took  no 
small  pleasure  in  pointing  out  features  in  which  London 



surpassed  Paris.  Before  1730,  Breval,  comparing  London 
with  Paris,  remarks:  "With  regard  to  regular  publick 
Places,  the  Advantage,  notwithstanding  their  pompous 
Decorations,  is  indisputably  on  our  Side.  There  are  but 
four  of  these  to  the  best  of  my  Remembrance  in  all  Paris, 
and  the  biggest  not  so  large  as  Red-lion-Square."  ^ 

Horace  Walpole  often  makes  caustic  comments  upon 
the  things  that  he  dislikes  at  Paris.  Characteristically  he 
remarks  in  his  letters :  ' '  The  charms  of  Paris  have  not  the 
least  attraction  for  me,  nor  would  keep  me  an  hoiu*  on  their 
own  account.  For  the  city  itself,  I  can  not  conceive  where 
my  eyes  were:  it  is  the  ugliest  beastliest  town  in  the  uni- 
verse. I  have  not  seen  a  mouthful  of  verdure  out  of  it, 
nor  have  they  anything  green  but  their  treillage  and  win- 
dow-shutters. Trees  cut  into  fireshovels  and  stuck  into 
pedestals  of  chalk,  compose  their  country.  Their  boasted 
knowledge  of  society  is  reduced  to  talking  of  their  suppers, 
and  every  malady  they  have  about  them,  or,  know  of."  ^ 
"Perhaps  this  is  her  [Madame  Roland's]  first  vision  of 
Paris,  and  it  is  natiu-al  for  a  Frenchwoman  to  have  her 
head  turned  with  it;  though  what  she  takes  for  rivers  of 
Emerald,  and  hotels  of  ruby  and  topaz,  are  to  my  eyes,  that 
have  been  ptirged  with  euphrasy  and  rue,  a  filthy  stream, 
in  which  every  thing  is  washed  without  being  cleaned, 
and  dirty  houses,  ugly  streets,  worse  shops,  and  churches 
loaded  with  bad  pictures.  Such  is  the  material  part  of  this 
paradise."  ^  And  again:  "  It  is  not  pleasant  to  leave  groves 
and  lawns  and  rivers  for  a  dirty  town  with  a  dirtier  ditch, 
calling  itself  the  Seine."  ^ 

Of  the  same  tenor  is  the  criticism  of  a  professional 
fault-finder  like  Hazlitt,  about  a  half-century  later.  He 
finds  the  streets  narrow,  the  pavement  bad,  and  he  is 
constantly  afraid  of  being  run  over  by  reckless  drivers. 
In  general:  "Paris  is  a  beast  of  a  city  to  be  in — to  those 
who  cannot  get  out  of  it.  Rousseau  said  well,  that  all 
the  time  he  was  in  it,  he  was  only  trying  how  he  should 
leave  it."  ^ 

Travelers   often    remarked   upon   the    sharp   contrasts 



everywhere  presented  at  Paris.  One  of  the  most  friendly 
critics  complained  of  the  long  line  of  washerwomen  along 
the  banks  of  the  Seine:  "This  is  an  abominable  nuisance, 
and  renders  the  views  up  the  river,  from  the  center  of 
the  Pont  de  la  Concorde  the  most  complete  melange 
of  filth  and  finery,  meanness  and  magnificence  I  have 
ever  beheld."  ^  But  notwithstanding  some  defects  Paris 
was  a  brilliant  city  to  look  upon,  and  constantly  improving 
in  appearance.2  Dr.  Rigby  in  1789  found  there  a  greater 
number  of  handsome  buildings  than  in  London. 

Paris  before  the  Revolution  was  not  yet  filled  with  the 
artistic  spoils  of  half  Europe,  as  it  was  after  Napoleon's 
great  campaigns,  but  it  was  already  rich  in  libraries  ^  and 
works  of  art.  The  King's  Library,  the  nucleus  of  the 
present  Bibliotheque  Nationale,  already  contained  by  the 
middle  of  the  century  "ninety  thousand  printed  volumes 
and  near  forty  thousand  MSS."  '  There  were  collections 
of  pictures  at  the  Louvre,  the  Tuileries,  and  particularly 
at  the  Palais  Royal,  which  were  among  the  foremost  in 

To  see  all  these  treasures,  conscientious  tourists  made 
the  rounds  prescribed  in  the  guide-books.  The  poet 
Gray  writes  from  Paris  to  his  friend  Aston:  "Our  Morn- 
ings have  been  mostly  taken  up  in  Seeing  Sights:  few 
Hotels  or  Chiurches  have  escaped  us,  where  there  is  any- 
thing remarkable  as  to  building,  Pictures  or  Statues.  Mr. 
Conway  is  as  usual  the  companion  of  our  travels,  who, 
till  we  came  had  not  seen  anything  at  all;  for  it  is  not 
the  fashion  here  to  have  curiosity."  ^ 

The  chief  aim,  indeed,  of  most  people  of  fashion  was  to 
waste  time  as  gracefully  as  possible.  Eighteenth-century 
Parisians  were  not  notably  fond  of  out-of-door  sports, 
—  though  here  and  there  an  enthusiast  took  up  English 
horse-racing  and  fox-hunting  and  boxing, —  but  when 
arrayed  in  all  their  finery,  they  enjoyed  strolling  in  the 
public  gardens,  or  taking  the  air  in  a  coach.  An  obser- 
ver about  1770  remarks:  They  are  "more  extravagant 
in  their  dress  than  in  their  eating  and  drinking :  for  though 



a  Frenchman  eats  nothing  but  soup  meagre  every  day 
in  the  week,  you  will  rarely  see  him  without  his  lac'd 
coat,  silk  stockings,  powdered  hair,  and  lac'd  ruffles, 
which  are  often  tack'd  upon  either  false  sleeves  or  a  shirt 
as  coarse  as  a  hop-sack."  ' 

A  favorite  place  of  resort  throughout  the  century 
for  Parisians  and  for  tourists  was  the  gardens  of  the 
Tuileries.  "Hither  the  ladies  flock  to  reap  the  fruits  of 
their  morning  labour  at  their  toilets,  and  the  men  no  less 
vain  and  extravagant  than  the  women,  to  display  their 
feathers  and  embroider'd  coats."  ^  "The  entrance  into 
these  gardens,"  says  Andrews,  "is  free  to  persons  decently 
clad;  but  vigorously  interdicted  to  domestics  in  livery, 
or  women  of  servile  appearance.  Whoever  they  may  be 
that  are  admitted,  they  must  not  seem  of  the  low  classes." ' 
Not  far  away  was  the  Palais  Royal,  with  its  great  en- 
closed garden,  its  crowds  of  curious  sight-seers  and  women 
of  questionable  character.  Other  attractive  recreation 
centers  were  "the  course  or  ring  for  taking  the  air  in 
coaches:  the  garden  of  Luxemburg:  the  garden  of  Cond^: 
the  garden  of  Soubise:  the  king's  garden:  the  garden 
of  the  arsenal:  the  gardens  of  the  archbishop  near  Notre 
Dame:  besides  the  Place  Royale,  and  the  avenues  of  the 
Hotel  de  Breton  Villiers,  where  a  great  many  people 
walk  in  the  evening."  ^  Especially  popular  was  the 
promenade  along  the  fortifications.  "Paris  being  walled 
in,  the  ramparts,  more  than  half  round  the  whole  city, 
are  adorned  with  four  rows  of  stately  trees,  in  the  center 
of  which  is  a  broad  road  for  coaches,  and  on  each  side 
very  fine  shady  walks.  Upon  these  ramparts  are  to  be 
seen,  every  fine  evening,  many  of  the  people  of  fashion 
in  their  coaches,  which  are  often  gaudy,  but  oftener  truly 
elegant,  and  painted  in  a  most  exquisite  manner;  not 
with  arms,  crest,  or  initial  letters,  but  with  a  variety  of 
pastoral  scenes."  ^ 

In  the  days  of  walled  towns  there  was  usually  a  swift 
transition  from  city  to  open  country;  and  such  was  the 
case  at  Paris.     Hazlitt   makes   an  interesting  comment 




upon  the  state  of  things  in  his  time:  "It  is  a  blessing 
to  counterbalance  the  inconveniences  of  large  cities  built 
within  walls,  that  they  do  not  extend  far  beyond  them. 
The  superfluous  population  is  pared  off,  like  the  pie- 
crust by  the  circumference  of  the  dish  —  even  on  the 
court  side,  not  a  hundred  yards  from  the  barrier  of  Neuilly, 
you  see  an  old  shepherd  tending  his  flock,  with  his  dog 
and  his  crook  and  sheepskin  cloak,  just  as  if  it  were  a 
hundred  miles  off,  or  a  hundred  years  ago.  It  was  so 
twenty  years  ago.  I  went  again  to  see  if  it  was  the  same 
yesterday.  The  old  man  was  gone,  but  there  was  his 
flock  by  the  road-side,  and  a  dog  and  a  boy,  grinning 
with  white  healthy  teeth,  like  one  of  Murillo's  beggar- 
boys."  ' 

When  the  tourist  wearied  of  the  galleries  or  the  streets 
he  could  sip  coffee,  tea  or  chocolate  at  a  cafd  ^  or  could 
drop  in  at  the  Cabinet  Litt^raire  in  the  Rue  Neuve  des 
Petits  Champs,  and  for  four  livres  a  month  have  the 
privilege  of  reading  the  English  newspapers.^  After  the 
diversions  of  the  day  there  was  still  no  lack  at  night. 
Especially  popular  with  tourists  were  the  theaters.  "Their 
operas  at  Paris,"  says  Nugent,  "are  extremely  fine,  the 
music  and  singing  excellent,  the  stage  large  and  mag- 
nificent, and  supplied  with  good  actors,  the  scenes  well 
suited,  and  changed  almost  imperceptibly;  the  dancing 
exquisite;  the  cloathing  rich  and  proper,  and  with  great 
variety;  they  are  frequented  by  a  vast  concourse  of  the 
nobility,  who  usually  join  in  the  chorus  with  the  actors."  ^ 
At  the  playhouses  comedies  were  very  popular;  and  as 
for  tragedy,  "The  most  sprightly  and  fashionable  people 
of  both  sexes  flock  to  these  entertainments  in  preference 
to  all  others,  and  listen  with  unrelaxed  gravity  and  atten- 
tion." ^ 

In  any  case  there  was  abundant  opportunity  for  killing 
time.  Says  Andrews:  "The  amusements  at  Paris  have 
by  some  fretful  peevish  people  been  represented  of  insuffi- 
cient variety  to  please  the  different  taste  of  those  num- 
erous travellers  that  croud  hither  from  all  parts  of  Europe. 



It  is  difficult  to  tell  upon  what  ground  this  complaint  is 
founded.  The  theatres  are  open  all  the  year,  and  there 
is  no  day  in  the  whole  twelvemonth,  which  does  not  afford 
some  pastime  or  shew,  either  temporal  or  spiritual,  if 
one  may  use  such  an  expression."  ^ 

One  might  discourse  endlessly  upon  Paris,  upon  the 
churches,  the  palaces,  the  gardens,  the  theaters,  the 
opera,  but  for  our  purpose  it  is  necessary  to  touch  upon 
only  a  few  matters.  Of  particular  interest  to  us  is  the 
brilliant  society  that  made  Paris  preeminent  in  Europe,' 
and  even  more  important  is  the  all-pervasive  influence 
of  the  Parisian  standards  of  dress,  of  manners,  of  speech, 
which  extended  their  imperious  sway  to  every  portion 
of  Europe  that  was  thought  to  be  worth  \'isiting  —  to 
Madrid,  to  St.  Petersburg,  to  Rolognn.  to  Rome,  to  Naples, 
to  Vienna,  to  Berlin,  as  well  as  to  the  innumerable  petty 
courts  of  Germany.  "Few  nations  in  Europe,"  says 
Sherlock,  "have  retained  their  original  characters.  They 
have  almost  all  adopted  the  French  fashions  and  customs; 
it  is  a  uniform  that  they  all  wear;  some  aukwardly  enough 
—  others  wHlth  more  grace.  The  very  small  towns  of 
Germany  have  the  same  simplicity  that  they  had  in 
the  time  of  Tacitus;  but  in  the  large  cities  everything  is 
d  la  Franqaisc.  It  is  so  much  better  for  the  manners  and 
the  table;  and  so  much  the  worse  for  the  morals.  It 
were  to  be  ^\4shed  that  the  Italians,  who  have  nothing 
to  lose  in  point  of  morals,  would  imitate  the  French  in 
everything.  In  the  north  of  Italy  they  are  much  Frenchi- 
fied; but  the  inhabitants  of  the  South  are,  dissimulation 
excepted,  such  as  nature  formed  them."  ^ 

Polite  society  throughout  Europe  in  the  eighteenth 
century  was  far  more  compact  and  acted  more  as  a  unit 
than  in  our  democratic  days.  There  was,  therefore, 
far  more  pressure  upon  the  traveler  to  conform  to  con- 
ventional rules  than  in  our  time.  Smollett  complains 
of  the  t}Tanny  of  fashion  in  France,  and  other  tourists 
echo  the  complaint  in  Italy  and  Germany.  But  even 
Smollett  felt  obliged  when  at  Paris  to  conform  in  every 



particular  to  the  dictates  of  French  fashion:  "When 
an  En^'Hshman  comes  to  Paris,  he  cannot  appear  until 
he  has  undergone  a  total  metamorphosis.*  At  his  first 
arrival  it  is  necessary  to  send  for  the  taylor,  peruquier, 
hatter,  shoemaker,  and  every  other  tradesman  concerned  in 
the  equipment  of  the  human  body.  He  must  even  change 
his  h;ucklcs,  and  the  form  of  his  ruffles;  and,  though  at 
the  risk  of  his  life,  suit  his  cloaths  to  the  mode  of  the 
season.  For  example,  though  the  weather  should  be 
never  so  cold,  he  must  wear  his  habit  d'eti  or  de  mi-saison, 
without  presuming  to  put  on  a  warm  dress  before  the 
day  which  fashion  has  fixed  for  that  purpose;  and  neither 
old  age  nor  infirmity  will  excuse  a  man  for  wearing  his 
hat  upon  his  head,  either  at  home  or  abroad.  The  good- 
man,  who  used  to  wear  the  beau  drap  d'Angleterre,  quite 
plain  all  the  year  round,  with  a  long  bob,  or  tye  pcrriwig, 
must  here  provide  himself  with  a  camblet  suit  trimmed 
with  silver  for  spring  and  autumn,  with  silk  cloaths  for 
summer,  and  cloth  laced  with  gold,  or  velvet  for  winter; 
and  he  must  wear  his  bag-wig  a  la  pigeon.  This  variety 
of  dress  is  absolutely  indispensable  for  all  those  who  pre- 
tend to  any  rank  above  the  mere  bourgeois.  On  his 
return  to  his  own  country  all  this  frippery  is  useless.^ 
.  .  .  Since  it  is  so  much  the  humour  of  the  English  at 
present  to  run  abroad,  I  wish  they  had  antigallican  spirit 
enough  to  produce  themselves  in  their  own  genuine  Eng- 
lish dress,  and  treat  all  the  French  modes  with  the  same 
philosophical  contempt  which  was  shown  by  an  honest 
gentleman,  distinguished  by  the  name  of  Wig-Middleton. 
That  unshaken  patriot  still  appears  in  the  same  kind  of 
scratch  pcrriwig,  skimming-dish  hat,  and  slit  sleeve,  which 
were  worn  five-and-twenty  years  ago,  and  has  invariably 
persisted  in  this  garb,  in  defiance  of  all  the  revolutions 
of  the  mode."  ^  And  in  his  vigorous  fashion  the  indig- 
nant British  censor  continues:  "Of  all  the  coxcombs  on 
the  face  of  the  earth,  a  French  petit  maitre  is  the  most 
impertinent;  and  they  are  all  petit  mattres,  from  the  mar- 
quis who  glitters  in  lace  and  embroidery  to  the  gar^on 



barhicr  covered  ^^nth  meal,  who  struts  with  his  hair  in  a 
long  queue,  and  his  hat  under  his  arm."  * 

A  generation  or  more  after  Smollett's  day,  the  well- 
known  traveler  Eustace  even  ventured  to  recommend 
the  Scotch  Highland  costume  in  preference  to  the  French : 
"A  few  improvements  might  make  it  perfect,  and  qualify 
it  admirably  for  all  the  purposes  of  a  national  habit,  and 
would  very  soon,  by  its  intrinsic  merit  and  beaut}^  super- 
sede the  monkey  attire  of  France."  - 

In  order  to  escape  amused  comment,  even  though 
politely  concealed,  English  tourists  were  in  general  ad- 
\'ised  to  take  with  them  into  France  only  indispensable 
articles  of  dress  and  to  add  to  their  wardrobe  after  their 
arrival:  "Into  a  small  tnmk  I  would  have  you  put  a 
dozen  of  shirts;  they  ought  to  be  much  coarser  than 
the  English  in  general  wear  them;  otherwise  their  slovenly 
manner  of  washing  (which  is  by  beating  them  with  a 
board  against  a  stone  in  cold  water)  vnW  soon  oblige  you 
to  buy  others;  half  a  dozen  pairs  of  shoes;  a  pair  of  boots, 
and  buckskin  breeches,  would  be  requisite,  as  the  French 
leather  is  not  proof  against  water:  your  stockings  should 
be  silk,  which  is  the  fashion  of  France,  even  among  the 
meanest  mechanics;  these,  with  the  cloaths  on  your  back 
and  the  hat  on  your  head,  with  the  best  French  diction- 
ary and  grammar  extant,  are  all  the  luggage  you  ought 
to  take;  for  at  the  first  town  you  propose  to  reside  at, 
you  should  fit  out,  d  la  mode  de  France,  and  continue  so 
as  long  as  you  reside  in  that  country."^ 

He  is  a  bold  and  not  always  wise  man  who  defies  the 
judgment  of  the  world;  and  even  so  sensible  an  English- 
man as  Arthur  Young,  while  at  Paris,  yielded  obedience 
to  fashions  that  he  felt  to  be  absurd.  And  although  an 
occasional  grumbler  objected,  the  great  throng  of  tourists 
fell  into  line  and  as  far  as  possible  conformed  their  dress 
and  their  manners  to  the  standards  of  Paris.  Some  Eng- 
lish exquisites,  indeed,  with  the  proverbial  zeal  of  new 
converts,  quite  overdid  the  matter  both  at  home  and 
abroad,  and  became  the  laughing-stock  of  Europe. 



The  diffusion  of  French  fashions  throughout  the  Con- 
tinent proceeded  in  the  leisurely  eighteenth-century  way, 
owing  to  the  slow  means  of  transport.  The  inevitable 
result  was  that,  in  proportion  as  cities  were  out  of  touch 
with  Paris,  fashions  were  likely  to  be  months  or  even 
years  behind  those  of  the  French  capital.  This  was 
true,  in  a  measure,  in  England  itself.  For  example,  in 
1774,  in  a  letter  to  the  Countess  of  Ossory,  Walpole  says: 
"I  hope  there  was  no  graver  reason  for  his  (Lord  Ossory 's) 
not  coming,  than  not  having  a  coat  trimmed  with  Brus- 
sels-point, or  buttons  to  his  cloaths,  edged  with  fur,  which 
our  English  travellers,  who  never  see  good  company  in 
Paris,  are  made  to  believe  by  their  tailor,  are  French 
fashions,  and  which  I,  who  did  live  in  good  company, 
never  beheld  there;  nor,  indeed,  anything  in  dress  that 
was  very  absurd."  * 

Only  by  reasonable  conformity  to  established  modes 
coiild  an  ordinary  tourist  —  we  can,  of  course,  take  no 
account  of  Franklin  in  his  plain  cloth  suit  —  hope  to 
be  admitted  to  Parisian  society,  the  epitome  of  all  that 
was  illustrious  in  France.  That  society  has  been  so  often 
described  by  brilliant  pens  that  there  is  no  need  of  going 
over  ground  already  familiar.  It  is  enough  to  point  out 
a  few  characteristic  features  that  particularly  concern  the 

We  have  already  remarked  upon  the  interest  that 
Frenchmen  in  the  eighteenth  century  had  begun  to  take 
in  the  English  and  their  ways.  But  the  fact  is  notable 
that  true  Parisians  had  long  given  little  heed  to  the  rest 
of  the  world.  "If  something  foreign  arrives  at  Paris," 
says  Walpole,  "they  either  think  they  invented  it,  or 
that  it  has  always  been  there."  ^  The  growing  popular- 
ity of  English  fashions  and  ideas  as  the  century  progressed 
was  in  a  sense  a  forerunner  of  the  Revolution.'  One  may 
question  whether  eighteenth-century  England  and  Eng- 
lishmen altogether  deserved  to  be  idealized  and  idolized 
in  the  fashion  that  became  popular  in  the  quarter-century 
before  the  French  Revolution,   but  love  is  proverbially 



blind.  At  all  events,  Eni^Hsh  institutions  as  a  wiiolo 
marked  a  hii^h  point  of  porfootion  it\  comparisoti  \ntii 
any  thing  that  France  or  Italy  or  Goniiany  had  attained. 

Althoni;h  many  Fronchmou  wore  oai^vr  to  adopt  Ktij;- 
lish  ways,  thoy  were  not  i\otable  (ov  aoquaititanee  wnth 
Enjjland.  Walpole  complains:  "I  could  not  a">nceivc 
that  they  knew  so  very  little  of  a  country  which  has 
lately  been  so  much  in  vogue  with  them."  *  Through- 
out the  eot\tury  Montesquieu  and  Voltaire  were  marked, 
exceptions  in  their  real  familiarity  witii  the  groat  island 
Idngdom.  Most  French  visitors  to  England  caught  a 
mere  glimpse. 

Upon  these  French  birds  of  passage  we  have  two  char- 
acteristic coniments:  Gilly  Williajns  writes  to  Schvyn 
from  l>rii;htliohnstone  (Brighton)  in  1764:  "You  would 
laugh  at  our  collection,  though  I  assure  you  wc  arc  much 
obliged  to  France  for  sending  us  twice  a  week  some  very 
extraordinary  exotics.  Barbers,  milliners,  barons,  counts, 
arrive  here  almost  every  tide,  and  they  stay  here  till 
their  finances  are  so  exhausted,  that  they  decamp  uf'on 
the  stage-coach  and  not  in  it."  ^  And  Walpole  in  178^? 
tells  Mann  in  one  of  his  letters:  "We  have  swanns  of 
French  here  daily;  but  they  come  as  if  they  had  laid 
wagers  that  there  is  no  such  place  as  England,  and  only 
wanted  to  verify  its  existence,  or  that  they  had  a  mind 
to  dance  a  minuet  on  English  ground;  for  they  turn  on 
their  heel  the  moment  after  landing."  ^  Wliat  Walpole 
writes  is  never  to  be  talvcn  too  literally.  lie  had  himself 
entertained  in  May,  1760,  a  large  party  of  French  gentle- 
men and  ladies  of  quality  at  Strawberry  Rill.*  and  he 
observed  in  his  "Memoirs  of  George  III""  that  after 
the  peace  with  France  muncrous  French  travelers  visited 
England,"  some  even  going  as  far  as  Ireland. 

In  far  greater  numbers  were  Englishmen  in  France; 
and,  if  their  rank  permitted,  they  were  very  well  received 
in  Parisian  society.  Wliat  made  social  intercourse  easier 
and  English  travelers  more  welcome  was  the  groNN-ing 
popularity  of  English  literature,  at  least  in  translations, 


in  the  yo.ncTHtum  ju:;t  ?x;foro  the  Revolution.  Richarrlson, 
for  example,  in  Walpole's  phrase,  had  "::tuperied  the 
whole  French  nation."  '  With  few  exception.s,  however, 
Frenchmen  had  little  or  no  mastery  of  spoken  Eny]v.:h;^ 
and  it  may  be  dou?>t<;d  whether  even  the  most  Anglicized 
Frenchmen  fully  underr;tood  the  temperament  of  their 
Enj^lish  ^mests. 

The  French  and  the  En;dish  saw  so  many  things  from 
difTerent  points  of  view  that  it  was  only  with  large 
reservations  that  most  Englishmen  prai:;od  the  French 
people.  As  elsewhere  pointed  out,  the  average  lower- 
class,  eighteenth-century  English  estimate  of  the  French 
was  hostile  and  contemptuous,^  and  some  of  this  feeling 
was  inevitably  shared  by  English  tourists.  The  English 
traveler  Clenche  remarks  as  a  matter  of  course  that 
"all  wise  men  naturally  have  a  perfect  aver;;ion  for  the 
French."  *  And  three  generations  later  Lady  Knight, 
who  spent  much  time  in  France  and  enjoyed  her  life  there, 
judged  the  French  people  severely.  Writing  to  a  friend 
in  1793,  she  says:  "Ambition  and  avarice  are  the  two 
leading  passions  of  the  French,  consequently  self-love 
governs  them,  and  I  should  be  ashamed  to  say  how  very 
few  I  know  or  have  knov/n  that  I  do  not  think  hate  all 
other  nations;  nor  do  I  believe  anything  can  be  more 
hateful  to  the  English  nation  than  that  the  French 
should  be  so  mixed  in  our  society;  they  will  undermine 
our  national  character.  I  wish  a  tax  was  to  be  laid  on  all 
tutors  and  gouvernantes  of  that  nation,  nay  even  on 
all  servants."*^ 

Judgments  so  unreserved  cannot  be  accepted  without 
qualification.  But  undoubtedly  some  charges  have  a  large 
basis  of  truth.  For  one  thing,  the  English  regarded  the 
French  people  in  general  as  lacking  in  delicacy.  vSays 
Hazlitt,  "A  Frenchman  (as  far  as  I  can  find)  has  no  idea 
answering  to  the  word  nasty."  '  This  charge  is  repeated 
by  English  travelers  of  every  type.  James  Edward  Smith 
cites  a  striking  experience  of  his  in  a  French  stage-coach. 
His   companions   were   reputable   people   of   the   middle 



ranks  of  life,  several  merchants,  "a  lawj'-er,  an  elderly 
woman  of  genteel  appearance,  and  a  beautiful  girl  of  six- 
teen. .  .  .  Shall  I  record  that  in  this  company  the  most 
undisguised  and  shocking  descriptions  were  given  of 
the  debaucheries  of  the  capital,  and  particulars  which 
would  scarcely  be  whispered  in  English  discussed  wdth 
the  utmost  exactness."  ^  Hazlitt  had  a  similar  experience 
in  the  diligence  between  Evreux  and  Paris. ^  "The 
Gentleman's  Guide"  (1770),  in  an  unquotable  pas- 
sage,^ comments  upon  the  astonishing  frankness  of  the 
conversation  of  "gentlemen  and  ladies"*  in  company 
at  Montpellier.  One  docs  not  expect  Smollett,  the  author 
of  "Roderick  Random"  and  "Humphry  Clinker,"  to 
be  easily  shocked  at  conversational  freedom,  but  he  says  of 
French  people  in  his  usual  sweeping  fashion:  "They 
are  utter  strangers  to  what  we  call  common  decency;  and 
I  could  give  you  some  high-flavoured  instances,  at  which 
even  a  native  of  Edinburgh  would  stop  his  nose."  ^ 

The  charge  of  indelicacy  was  a  very  old  one,®  and  it 
is  not  unheard  even  in  our  day.  A  mild  instance  is  the 
following,  cited  by  Birkbeck,  who  was  traveling  in  south- 
em  France:  When  the  diligence  halted,  "With  the  curi- 
osity common  to  travelers  we  attended  to  the  alighting 
of  this  party :  as  the  lady  ^  stepped  out  of  the  carriage 
she  discovered  a  lapse  of  stocking,  and  continuing  her 
chat  with  the  gentleman  who  had  handed  her  out,  she 
deliberately  adjusted  it  and  tied  her  garter.  This  is 
characteristic  of  southern  France,  and  tends  to  settle  a 
point  in  natural  history,  —  that  a  French  lady's  knee  is 
as  modest  as  the  elbow  of  an  English  lady;  which  I  am 
satisfied  was  the  case  in  this  instance."  ^ 

From  indelicacy  to  indecency  the  step  was  short.  Eng- 
lish tourists  complain  of  the  filthy  practices  almost  uni- 
versal in  French  towns,  that  made  it  painful  for  "a  per- 
son of  the  least  delicacy  or  decency"  to  "walk  through 
their  streets."  ^ 

Very  common,  too,  among  men  and  women  of  all  classes, 
notwithstanding   the   stress   laid   upon   forms   of   polite- 



ness,  was  "the  habit  of  spitting  up  and  down  their  houses 
and  churches."  ^  This  practice,  observes  Young,  "which 
is  amongst  the  highest  as  well  as  the  lowest  ranks,  is  de- 
testable :  I  have  seen  a  gentleman  spit  so  near  the  cloaths 
of  a  dutchess  that  I  have  stared  at  his  unconcern."  ^  "In 
point  of  cleanliness,"  he  remarks  in  the  same  passage, 
"I  think  the  merit  of  the  two  nations  is  divided;  the 
French  are  cleaner  in  their  persons,  and  the  English 
in  their  houses;  I  speak  of  the  mass  of  the  people,  and 
not  of  individuals  of  considerable  fortune."  '  But  the 
king's  ceremonial  ablutions  were  usually  on  a  very  limited 
scale.  For  his  bath  at  the  coucher,  "the  grand  chamber- 
lain presents  him  a  towel  moistened  at  one  end  .  .  .  and 
His  Majesty  washes  his  face  and  hands  and  wipes  himself 
with  the  unmoistened  end."^  And  there  is  no  place  al- 
lowed for  any  more  elaborate  cleansing  in  the  morning 
ceremonial.  This  solemn  function  was  witnessed  morning 
and  evening  by  those  whose  rank  entitled  them  to  be 
present,  and  they  doubtless  took  pleasure  in  limiting 
themselves  to  the  same  regimen  as  their  sovereign. 

The  various  sights  of  Paris  were  entertaining  and  in- 
structive. But  there  still  remained  the  brilliant  French 
society,  access  to  which  was  by  no  means  a  matter  of 
course  for  English  tourists.  Walpole  writes  West  in 
1739:  "We  have  seen  very  little  of  the  people  them- 
selves, who  are  not  inclined  to  be  propitious  to  strangers, 
especially  if  they  do  not  play  and  speak  the  language 
readily."  And  twenty-five  years  later,  commenting 
on  Englishmen  who  were  dissatisfied  with  their  recep- 
tion at  Paris,  he  observes  in  a  letter  to  the  Earl  of  Hert- 
ford: "  If  they  are  not  content  now,  I  wish  they  knew  how 
the  English  were  received  at  Paris  twenty  years  ago  — 
why,  you  and  I  know  they  were  not  received  at  all."  ^ 
Another  Englishman  in  1769,  commenting  upon  strangers 
at  Paris,  remarks:  "Nine  tenths  of  them  are  never  ad- 
mitted into  good  company  —  or  in  other  words,  into  their 
supper  parties,  and  all  beside  is  mere  form  and  ceremony 
—  whereas  at  London,  Rome,  and  Naples,  etc.,  a  stranger 


TOl  R   OF   FllANCK    AND   SPAIN 

of  any  rank  cots  into  the  most  airtwablo  parties  \nih 
little  troublo:  in  this  respect  the  unsociableness  of  tlie 
French  destroys  the  tnie  politeness."  ' 

The  common  complaint  of  the  lack  of  FnMieh  hospi- 
tality was  doubtless  often  in  part  due  to  the  fact  that  a 
French  host  felt  no  obligation  to  seek  out  strat\j;ers  in 
order  to  feed  them.  Lady  Mor,i:;an  tells  of  "an  Kn>:Ush 
gentleman,  resident  at  Paris,"  who  assured  her  "that 
an  IrishTnan.  whom  he  had  known  in  France  nvmy  years, 
left  his  sm;Ul  fortxme  to  the  only  I'Venchman  who  had  ever 
offered  him  a  dinner;  at  once  to  mark  his  owni  gratitude 
and  the  rarity  of  the  event."  But  she  adds:  "The  out- 
cry, indeed,  amongst  the  strangers  who  now  \nsit  Paris, 
against  the  want  of  hospitality  in  its  inhabitants,  is  much 
more  universal  than  it  is  well  founded.  .  .  .  No  hospi- 
tality, and  indeed  no  fortune,  could  hold  out  against 
those  legions  of  the  idle  and  imoccupied,  who,  in  the  ex- 
uberance of  we;ilth.  or  of  curiosity  leave  England  to  — 
Promener  leur  ennui  ailleurs." '  And  she  adds;  "Few 
persons,  I  imagine,  well  introduced  by  letters  of  recom- 
mendation, or  by  their  personal  talents,  or  celebrity,  \rill 
join  in  this  outcry  against  French  hospitality;  or  will 
deny  that  the  access  to  a  Frencli  house,  where  the  stranger 
has  once  been  received,  is  both  easy  and  gracious.  It  is, 
however,  quite  true,  that  dinners  of  cea^nony  are  by  no 
means  so  general  in  Paris  as  in   London  or  Dublin."  "' 

Unquestionably,  the  reception  that  the  tourist  got 
depended  largely  upon  his  social  standing  and  his  person;U 
characteristics.  For  example,  just  after  the  great  Revolu- 
tion had  spent  its  fury,  the  genial  John  Carr  was  received 
with  the  most  unallected  kindness  into  the  households 
of  French  people  of  charming  manners.  At  the  conclu- 
sion of  his  Nnsit  he  says:  "I  had  to  part  \\'ith  those  who, 
in  the  short  space  of  one  fleeting  month,  had  by  their 
endearing  and  flattering  attentions  .  .  .  made  me  forget 
that  I  was  even  a  5/ra«grr."  * 

Once  admitted  to  French  society  the  English  as  a  rule 
found  much  to  criticize.     Lady  Montagu's  satirical  por- 



trait  of  French  ladies  in  1718  anticipates  the  sketches  of 
half  a  century  later.     "I  have  seen  all  the  beauties,  and 

such (I  can't  help  making  use  of  the  coarse  word) 

nauseous  creatures!  so  fantastically  absurd  in  their  dress! 
so  monstrously  unnatural  in  their  paints!  their  hair  cut 
short,  and  curled  round  their  faces,  and  so  loaded  with 
powder,  that  it  makes  it  look  like  white  wool!  and  on 
their  cheeks  to  their  chins,  unmercifully  laid  on,  a  shining 
red  japan,  that  glistens  in  a  most  flaming  manner,  so 
that  they  seem  to  have  no  resemblance  to  human  faces. 
I  am  apt  to  believe,  that  they  took  the  first  hint  of  their 
dress  from  a  fair  sheep  newly  radflled."  ^  Travelers 
admit  that  the  ladies  of  Paris  have  "the  most  enchanting 
airs  in  the  world  and  an  eternal  show  of  vivacity  in  their 
eyes."  2  But,  says  one,  "the  women  of  rank  make  them- 
selves hideous  by  great  blotches  of  paint  upon  their  cheeks, 
which,  in  some  ladies,  are  as  well  defined  as  the  circumfer- 
ence of  a  circle,  and  as  red  as  the  Saracen's  Head  upon 
a  sign-post."  ^  But  in  spite  of  the  too  abundant  rouge 
and  puffs  and  powder.  Englishmen  of  social  instincts 
found  themselves,  particularly  during  the  second  half  of 
the  century,  very  much  at  home  in  many  circles  of  Pari- 
sian society.  As  in  some  of  the  higher  society  of  England, 
cards  and  billiards  occupied  a  good  part  of  the  day.  Says 
Nugent:  "They  are  much  addicted  to  gaming,  which  is 
the  very  soul  of  all  their  assemblies,  and  the  only  means 
for  a  foreigner  to  ingratiate  himself  in  their  company."  * 
And  Walpole  observes:  "In  French  houses  it  is  impos- 
sible to  meet  with  anything  but  whist,  which  I  am  de- 
termined never  to  learn  again.  I  sit  by  and  yawn;  which, 
however,  is  better  than  sitting  at  it  to  yawn."  ^  Gambling 
was,  indeed,  almost  obligatory  for  one  who  wished  to 
be  popular  in  Parisian  society."  For,  as  Dr.  Moore  re- 
marks upon  his  admittance  to  exclusive  companies  under 
the  patronage  of  a  French  marquis:  "Nothing  can  be  a 
greater  proof  of  his  influence  in  some  of  the  most  fashion- 
able circles  than  his  being  able  to  introduce  a  man  with- 
out a  title,  and  who  never  games."  '    And  it  was  well 



he  did  not,  for,  as  Smollett  observes,  people  of  high  rank 
"learn  to  play  not  barely  for  amusement,  but  also  with  a 
view  to  advantage."  ^  Or,  in  the  words  of  a  much  earlier 
writer,  "Even  the  ladies  do  not  want  tricks  to  strip  a 
bubble."  2 

Obviously,  eighteenth-century  Parisian  society  had  no 
very  rigid  standard  of  morals.  One  might,  indeed,  ob- 
serve that  an  Englishman  of  fashion  had  no  need  to  go 
abroad  in  order  to  become  an  accomplished  rake.  But 
Paris  offered  irresistible  attractions  to  a  free-liver.  Im- 
morality was  there  cultivated  as  a  fine  art.  "This  liber- 
tinism," says  Keysler,  "takes  so  with  young  travellers 
that  they  look  upon  it  as  the  chief  accomplishment  that 
they  are  to  acquire  in  France;  and,  indeed,  the  young 
gentlemen  who  come  from  Paris  are  as  well  known  as 
a  bird  is  by  its  note."  ^ 

Two  generations  later,  Carr,  one  of  the  friendliest  of 
critics,  remarks:  "The  married  women  of  France  feel 
no  compunctious  visitings  of  conscience  in  cherishing 
about  them  a  circle  of  lovers,  amongst  whom  their  hus- 
bands are  merely  more  favored  than  the  rest."  ^  He  is 
good  enough  to  add  that  he  thinks  the  relations  platonic. 

Moralists  as  a  rule  tend  to  deliver  sweeping  judgments, 
and  Paris  was  a  frequent  theme  for  denunciation.  Be- 
yond question  Paris  was  a  perilous  city  for  wealthy  young 
strangers  who  were  not  averse  to  forbidden  pleasures. 
But  exaggeration  is  easy;  and  the  sober  judgment  of 
Nugent  is  probably  not  far  astray:  "The  young  people 
(of  France)  are  debauched  and  irreligious;  but  we  must 
own  that  this  is  compensated  by  the  solidity  and  judi- 
cious behaviour  of  those  who  are  more  advanced  in 
life."  5 

But,  after  all,  the  chief  complaint  against  the  French 
was  of  another  sort, —  that  they  could  not  be  trusted. 
They  were  "charged  with  insincerity  in  their  complais- 
ance, and  with  being  little  better  than  genteel  hypocrites 
in  their  cringes  and  impertinent  ceremonies."  ^  It  is  in- 
deed true  that  manners  in  the  higher  circles  of  English 



society  were  in  a  measure  an  imitation  of  the  manners  of 
Paris,  with  their  ease  and  gayety.  Many  Englishmen  of 
fashion  found  in  France  all  that  made  life  seem  worth  liv- 
ing. Young  men  were  sent  abroad  as  much  for  the  sake 
of  learning  the  graces  as  for  any  other  reason.  But  in 
general  English  imitation  of  French  traits  was  liable  to  be 
awkward.  "What  strikes  me  the  most,  upon  the  whole," 
says  Walpole,  "is  the  total  difference  in  manners  between 
them  and  us."  ^  The  Frenchman  was  trained  from  his 
earliest  childhood  to  respond  instinctively  to  the  lightest 
touch,  and  to  utter  small  courtesies  with  every  breath.  The 
more  impassive  Englishman  remained  stolid.  Less  grace- 
ful in  manner  and  in  speech,  he  prided  himself  on  his  blunt 
sincerity.  "I  am  very  far  from  thinking,"  says  one,  "that 
the  plain  and  honest  character  of  an  Englishman  is  not 
preferable  to  a  glittering  superficies  of  politeness."  ^  Most 
Englishmen  took  the  French  too  seriously.  "A  French- 
man," says  Dr.  Moore,  "not  only  means  nothing  beyond 
common  civility  by  the  plentiful  shower  of  compliments 
which  he  pours  on  every  stranger;  but  also,  he  takes  it 
for  granted  that  the  stranger  knows  that  nothing  more  is 
meant."  ^ 

Whether  sincere  or  not,  French  courtesy  smoothed  the 
way  for  multitudes  of  English  totuists.  Nearly  all  strangers 
found  the  French  people  amiable.^  People  in  France  did 
not  stare  at  clothes  out  of  fashion,^  and  they  even  toler- 
ated English  French.  Of  this  considerate  kindliness  Moore 
cites  a  striking  instance.  At  Strassburg  he  attended  a  play 
which  presented  the  English  in  a  ridiculous  light.  "An 
old  French  officer,  who  was  in  the  next  box  to  us,  seemed 
uneasy  and  hurt  at  the  peals  of  laughter  which  burst  from 
the  audience  at  some  particular  passages :  He  touched  my 
shoulder  and  assured  me  that  no  nation  was  more  respected 
in  France  than  the  English."^  Elsewhere  Moore  remarks: 
' '  A  stranger,  quite  new  and  unversedin  their  language,  whose 
accent  is  uncouth  and  ridiculous  in  the  ears  of  the  French, 
and  who  can  scarcely  open  his  mouth  without  making 
a  blunder  in  grammar  or  idiom,  is  heard  with  the  most 



serious  attention,  and  never  lauj^hed  at.  even  when  he 
litters  the  oddest  solecism  or  equivocal  expression."  ' 

But  as  most  Eni^Hshmen  were  measurably  aware  of 
their  deficiencies,  the  French  not  unnatur;illy  found  thetn 
inclined  to  be  silent  in  company.  Englishmen,  in  their 
tuni,  accustotned  to  hear  the  French  extolled  for  bril- 
liancy in  conversation,  noted  with  wonder  the  silence 
of  French  people  when  they  might  have  been  expected 
to  be  talkative.  Says  Young:  "I  came  to  this  king- 
dom expecting  to  have  my  ears  constantly  fatigued 
with  the  infinite  volubility  and  spirits  of  the  people,  of 
which  so  many  persons  have  written,  silting.  I  suppose, 
by  their  English  firesides.  At  Montpellier,  though  fif- 
teen persons  and  some  of  them  ladies  were  present,  I 
found  it  impossible  to  make  them  break  their  inflexible 
silence  \\'ith  more  than  a  monosyllable,  and  the  whole 
company  sat  more  like  an  assembly  of  tongue-tied  quakers, 
than  the  mixed  company  of  a  people  famed  for  loquacity."  " 
Young  notes  the  same  thing  at  Nimes  and  at  Rouen: 
"Of  all  smnbrc  and  trtste  meetings  a  French  tabic  dliote 
is  foremost;  for  eight  minutes  a  dead  silence,  and  as  to 
the  politeness  of  addressing  a  conversation  to  a  foreigner, 
he  ^^'ill  look  for  it  in  vain.  Not  a  single  word  has  any 
where  been  said  to  me  unless  to  answer  some  question."  ^ 
Even  in  our  day  the  tourist  in  France  can  hardly  avoid 
noting  that  Frenchmen  not  already  acquainted  aa^  im- 
likcly  to  distract  their  attention  from  the  serious  business 
of  eating  for  the  siike  of  exchanging  remarks  with  strangers. 

The  discussion  of  French  traits  has  drawn  us  away  from 
the  capital.  Our  survey  of  Paris  is  necessarily  incom- 
plete at  many  points,  since  we  can  only  glance  at  a  few 
characteristic  features  and  pass  on.  But  we  have  ob- 
scr\'ed  enough  to  realize  some  of  the  features  that  com- 
pelled every  tourist  to  include  Paris  in  his  Continental 

We  must  now  glance  at  a  few  other  characteristic 
French  cities.  We  cannot  enumerate  all  the  various 
excursions  commonly  made  from  Paris,  —  to  Saint-Cloud, 


TOCK   OF   i  KANCP:   and   SPAIN 

to  Marly,  to  Saint-Denis,  to  Vinccnnes,  to  Fontaine- 
bloau, —  but  wc  must  give  a  word  to  Versailles.  The 
splendor  of  this  royal  abode  had  already  somewhat  faded 
in  the  course  of  the  ei^^hteenth  century.  The  magni- 
ficent gardens  and  fountains  were  often  neglected,  and 
the  hedges  and  trees  withered. ^  Some  Englishmen,  to 
their  credit  be  it  said,  had  sufficient  discernment  to  CTiti- 
cizo  the  defects  at  Versailles.  Walpolo  in  1739  describes 
"the  great  front"  of  the  palace  as  "a  lumber  of  little- 
ness, composed  of  black  brick,  stuck  full  of  bad  old  Vjusts, 
and  fringed  with  gold  rails."  ^  Another  traveler  finds  in 
1769  that  "the  ornaments  of  Trianon  and  Marly  .  .  . 
are  in  a  most  false  and  vicious  taste." ^  And  still  another, 
commenting  on  the  palace,  observes  in  1773:  "The 
apartments  are  dirty,  which  cannot  be  wondered  at,  when 
you  are  told  that  all  the  world  rove  about  the  palace  at 
pleasure;  I  went  from  room  to  room  as  my  choice  directed 
me,  into  the  King's  bed-chamber,  dressing-room,  etc., 
in  all  of  which  were  numbers  of  people,  and  many  of  them 
indiflcrently  clad."  * 

By  the  middle  of  the  century  Versailles  had  lost  also 
much  of  the  social  brilliancy  that  had  marked  it  in  the 
days  of  the  great  Louis.  The  court  was  eclipsed  by  the 
Parisian  salons.  But,  nevertheless,  no  tourist  felt  that 
he  had  seen  France  until  he  had  seen  Versailles,  for,  as 
Babeau  remarks,  "all  the  courts  of  Europe  were  modelled 
on  that  of  Versailles";  as  were  "all  the  salons  on  that 
of  Paris."  5 

The  visitor  could  go  by  water  as  far  as  Sevres  and  then  by 
carriage  to  the  palace,  or  he  could  drive  all  the  way. 
Nugent  remarks:  "You  may  have  a  gay  and  easy  gilt 
coach  or  chariot,  and  a  coachman,  with  a  good  pair  of 
horses,  for  twelve  livres,  which  is  about  ten  shillings  a 
day,  to  attend  you  from  seven  in  the  morning  till  mid- 
night, and  to  carry  you  to  Versailles,  etc."  One  required 
a  special  contract,  witnessed  before  a  notary,  to  enable 
the  coachman  to  pass  outside  the  gates  of  Paris  .^ 

Visitors  could  look  up  in  De  la  Force  ^  the  ceremonial 



attending  the  dining  and  supping  of  the  king  in  public  and 
be  admitted  to  gaze  upon  the  meals  of  His  Most  Sacred 
Majesty.  At  Versailles,  too,  one  might,  like  Burke, 
mingle  in  the  gayly  attired  throngs  that  moved  through 
the  long  corridors  and  the  vast  halls  of  the  palace.  The 
court  doubtless  was,  as  an  English  lady  assured  Young, 
"amazingly  splendid,"  and  assuredly  one  of  the  most 
memorable  sights  of  Etirope. 


What  remained  to  be  seen  in  France  besides  Paris 
and  its  environs  was,  in  the  opinion  of  most  tourists,  of 
relatively  small  importance.  Whoever  made  the  grand 
tour  set  out  sooner  or  later  for  Italy  and  followed  the 
traditional  routes.  Yet  the  journey  to  Italy  compelled 
even  the  most  indifferent  traveler  to  see,  at  least  in  passing, 
more  than  one  notable  provincial  city.  Tourists  really 
bent  upon  getting  an  intelligent  familiarity  with  the 
country  supplemented  this  conventional  journey  by 
various  pilgrimages  in  the  great  region  west  of  the  Rhone 
and  south  of  the  Seine.  With  the  improvement  in  ac- 
commodations at  the  inns  and  the  bettering  of  the  means 
of  travel,  a  tourist  could  shape  his  course  through  France 
very  much  as  he  pleased,  though  we  need  hardly  re- 
mark that  his  curiosity  did  not  lead  him  very  often  to 
places  of  minor  importance  that  lay  off  the  main  routes. 
It  is,  indeed,  rather  amusing  to  see  with  what  haste  the 
average  traveler,  after  a  stay  in  Paris,  took  his  flight  for 
the  South.  His  route  commonly  led  him  down  the  valley 
of  the  Rhone,  partly  by  carriage  and  partly  by  boat,  on 
the  direct  way  to  Italy. 

Contemporary  guide-books  supply  the  details:  "Those 
who  intend,"  says  Nugent,  "to  travel  from  Paris  to  Italy 
must  set  out  for  Lyons,  to  which  city  there  are  three 
different  routes,  viz.,  two  post-roads,  and  a  third  used  by 
the  diligence.  Again  there  are  four  different  routes  from 
Lyons  to  Italy ;  the  first  and  pleasantest,  but  longest  about, 



is  by  Marseilles  and  Toulon,  at  either  of  which  places  there 
are  daily  opportunities  of  vessels  going  to  Genoa;  but  if 
you  don't  like  the  sea,  you  may  proceed  by  the  post-route 
from  Aix  to  Nice,  and  thence  by  land  to  Genoa,  or  any 
other  part  of  Italy:  the  second,  somewhat  shorter,  is  by 
Geneva  and  Swisserland;  the  third,  still  shorter,  is  by 
Grenoble  and  Briangon:  and  the  fourth,  as  short  as  the 
preceding,  is  by  Pont  Beauvoisin.  The  diligence  from  Paris 
to  Lyons  sets  out  every  other  day  from  the  Hotel  de  Sens, 
near  the  Ave  Maria;  the  price  to  each  passenger  seventy- 
five  livres.  For  your  baggage  you  pay  five  sols  a  pound, 
except  twenty-five  pounds,  which  you  have  free.  There 
are  likewise  coaches  at  the  same  place  that  set  out  every 
third  day  at  four  in  the  morning,  and  winter  and  summer 
go  through  Burgundy.  You  have  also  water  carriages 
from  Paris  to  Lyons;  the  fare  to  each  passenger  is  thirty 
five  livres,  and  you  are  ten  days  upon  the  road."^  "From 
Lyons  you  may  go  down  as  far  as  Avignon  by  water;  for 
there  are  boats  that  descend  the  Rhone  almost  every  day, 
and  move  with  great  expedition  on  this  rapid  river."  ^ 

The  entire  valley  of  the  Rhone  presented  the  double  at- 
traction of  being  a  part  of  the  ordinary  route  to  Italy  and 
of  offering  a  large  number  of  towns  full  of  Roman  remains ; 
at  Vienne  a  temple;  at  Orange  an  arch  and  a  vast  theater; 
at  Nimes  an  exquisite  temple  and  a  magnificent  amphi- 
theater ;  at  the  Pont  du  Gard,  a  stupendous  Roman  aque- 
duct; at  Aries  an  ancient  theater,  an  amphitheater,  and 
many  broken  survivals  of  the  wealthy  Graeco-Roman  city. 
And  these  are  but  a  hint  of  the  riches  of  this  famous 

Part  of  the  stream  of  travel  setting  toward  Italy  naturally 
tended  toward  Dijon.  This  charming  old  city  was  popular 
with  strangers,  being  notable  for  the  cheapness  of  living  and 
the  courtesy  of  the  inhabitants.  As  early  as  1730  sixteen 
English  families  were  settled  there.^  Of  high  reputation  was 
the  French  spoken  at  Dijon.  "The  Gentleman's  Guide" 
remarks:^  "Here  the  French  language  is  spoke  with 
greater  propriety  than  at  Paris,  or  any  other  town  in  the 



kingdom,  tho'  Blois  had  formcrlj^  that  reputation.  I  do  not 
know  any  town  in  France  preferable  to  this  for  the  resi- 
dence of  any  gentleman." 

Lyons,  the  second  city  of  the  kingdom,  with  a  popula- 
tion of  about  a  hundred  thousand,*  was,  as  we  have  seen, 
on  the  main  route  to  Italy,  and  thus  caught  a  good  many 
tourists  as  they  went  through.  Gray  incidentally  remarks 
in  one  of  his  letters  that  while  he  was  there  "near  thirty" 
English  were  then  passing  through  L3'-ons  "on  their  way  to, 
Italy  and  the  South."  "^  Here,  too,  Evelyn  a  century  earlier 
had  met  at  the  Golden  Lion  "divers  of  his  acquaintance, 
who,  coming  from  Paris,  were  designed  for  Italy."  ^ 

Dr.  Moore  counted  Lyons  the  most  magnificent  town 
in  France,  after  Paris.  Its  situation  brought  commerce, 
wealth,  and  population.  The  inns  were  famous  for  their 
la\'ish  display  of  plate,  and  they  were  thronged  during  the 
tourist  season  by  Englishmen  on  their  way  to  or  from  Italy. 
The  great  merchants  lived  on  a  grand  scale  and  impressed 
strangers  ^^'ith  their  profusion.  Mrs.  Piozzi  says:  "Such 
was  the  hospitality  I  have  here  been  witness  to,  and  such 
the  luxury  of  the  Lyonnois  at  table,  that  I  counted  thirty- 
six  dishes  where  we  dined  and  twenty-four  where  we 
supped.  Every  thing  was  served  up  in  silver  in  both 
places."  ^ 

But  Lyons  had  the  unkempt  appearance  so  common  in 
French  provincial  towns  in  the  eighteenth  century.  Criti- 
cal strangers  noted  "the  extreme  narrowness  of  the  streets, 
which  are  badly  paved  and  ever  dirty;  and  the  villanous 
ragged  paper  wdndows,  wdth  which  every  house  (except 
those  of  the  richest  merchants)  is  so  abominably  defaced."^ 

At  Lyons  one  had  the  choice  of  continuing  down  the 
Rhone  or  of  turning  to  the  east  for  the  journey  over  the 
Alps.  If  one  had  no  time  to  spare,  the  journey  was  unin- 
terrupted until  the  mountains  were  safely  scaled.  But 
more  leisurely  tourists  paused  a  little  to  see  Grenoble  and 
the  Grande  Chartreuse,  and  perhaps  spent  a  few  days  or 
weeks  at  Chamb^ry. 

Grenoble,  situated  on  the  Isere  and  encircled  by  snow- 



capped  mountains,  with  the  crest  of  Mont  Blanc  filling  the 
horizon  to  the  east,  saw  a  good  number  of  English  tourists 
every  year  on  their  way  to  or  from  Italy. 

Many  English  tourists  went  up  from  Grenoble  to  the 
Grande  Chartreuse,  thirteen  miles  distant,  —  one  of  the 
most  interesting  specimens  in  France  of  a  great  monastery. 
There  was  little  of  the  medieval  that  greeted  the  eight- 
eenth-century visitor  to  the  Grande  Chartreuse,  for  it  had 
eight  times  been  rebuilt  after  fires.  The  poet  Gray  visited 
it  twice  while  on  his  long  tour,  once  with  Walpole  and  once 
alone  on  the  return  journey,  and  was  profoundly  impressed 
by  the  romantic  surroundings.  The  narrow  road  up  the 
mountain  gorge  was  counted  dangerous  and  struck  terror 
to  the  heart  of  the  traveler.^  As  an  illustration  of  the  chang- 
ing attitude  toward  wild  scenery  it  is  very  suggestive  to 
contrast  Gray's  well-known  description  of  the  monastery 
and  its  situation  with  the  account  by  Clcnchc,  who  many 
years  before  had  visited  "this  miserable  place."  Clenche 
found  it  "Scituate  in  the  most  solitary  place  that  can  be 
found  in  the  world,  amongst  horrid  mountains,  worse  than 
the  Alpes,  and  the  way  from  Chambdry,  hewn  out  of  the 
side  of  rocks  in  steps,  with  continual  precipices,  a  roaring 
torrent  in  the  bottom,  and  through  the  melancholy  shade 
of  pines  and  fir-trees;  the  house  large,  but  far  from  being 
beautiful  or  regular.  ...  A  stranger  that  is  so  foolishly 
curious  as  to  come  here  is  lodged  for  a  night ;  and  a  father, 
whose  particular  business  it  is,  entertains  him,  and  in  the 
morning  he  records  himself  in  a  book  at  his  going  away."  ^ 

But  it  is  time  to  return  to  the  tourist  making  his  way 
down  the  Rhone.  A  little  below  Lyons  was  Vienne.  The 
town  was  dingy  and  dismal,  as  it  is  to-day,  but  its  an- 
tiquity was  obvious  to  the  most  careless  eye,  and  to  the 
archaeologist  it  was  a  place  of  rare  interest. 

If  the  tourist  descended  the  Rhone  by  boat,  as  he  was 
commonly  advised  to  do,  he  was  in  some  trepidation  until 
he  had  safely  passed  the  Pont  Saint-Esprit,  where  the  river 
runs  "with  considerable  rapidity."  ' 

The  next  point  of  interest  was  Orange,  a  few  miles  to  the 



east  of  the  Rhone.  The  great  glory  of  Orange,  in  the  eye  of 
the  modem  tourist,  is  the  Roman  theater.  But  an  EngHsh- 
man  like  Clenche  passes  it  by  wnthout  mention,  and  merely 
notes  Orange  as  "a  little  town  very  ancient,  as  the  mines  of 
the  antiquities  do  show. ' '  *  Breval  was  three  times  at  Orange, 
the  last  time  in  1 730.  He  remarks  upon  the  theater:  "The 
Area  within  is  now  a  kind  of  Suburb  to  Orange,  fill'd  with 
poor  and  mean  tenements  like  the  Amphitheatres  of  Nimes 
and  Aries."  ^  On  his  last  xnsit  he  found  the  famous  trium- 
phal arch  cleared  of  much  of  the  accumulated  rubbish.  Up 
to  1 72 1  two-thirds  of  it  had  been  buried  in  the  soil. 

A  little  farther  south  lay  Avignon,  facing  the  castle- 
crowned  heights  of  Villcncuve.  Ancient  Av-ignon,  with 
its  encircling  crenellated  walls,  and  the  palace  of  the 
Popes  —  grim  and  mighty  —  rising  above  the  Rhone  and 
the  broken  arches  of  the  medieval  bridge,  was  singularly 
picturesque.  In  the  Franciscan  church  was  the  tomb  of 
Petrarch's  Laura.  Outside  the  town  walls  in  every  direc- 
tion stretched  \aneyards  alternating  with  groves  of  olives 
and  oranges  and  lemons. 

A\^gnon  commonly  served  as  a  stopping  place  for  tour- 
ists on  their  way  to  or  from  Italy.  Trade  was  small,  but 
there  were  many  wealthy  inhabitants  and  many  social 
attractions.'  We  note  ^\'ith  interest  that  Avignon  was 
"the  residence  of  a  vast  number  of  handsome  Englisli  gen- 
tlemen, who  were  obliged  to  fly  their  country  with  the 
unfortunate  chevalier  in  1745."*  "There  are  some  very 
good  sort  of  English  there,"  writes  the  Dowager  Countess 
of  Carlisle  to  Sclwjm  in  1779.^  The  life  was  not  exciting 
but  very  wholesome  for  jaded  tourists.  People  kept  early 
hours  and  unless  bent  upon  evil  found  little  in  their  sur- 
roundings to  lead  them  astray. 

From  Avignon  travelers  commonly  made  a  little  detour 
to  the  southwest  for  the  sake  of  seeing  Nimes  and  the  noble 
Roman  aqueduct  that  spans  the  Gard.  The  ancient  build- 
ings at  Nimes  —  the  exquisite  temple  known  as  the  Maison 
Carrie,*  the  Roman  baths,  and  the  magnificent  Roman 
amphitheater  —  were  highly  esteemed   by  tourists,   who 




counted  the  place  "a  second  Rome."  '  Arthur  Young 
thought  the  temple  to  be  "beyond  comparison  the  most 
light,  elegant,  and  pleasing  building  "*  he  had  ever  seen. 
Throughout  the  easy-going  eighteenth  century  the  amphi- 
theater here,  as  at  Aries,  was  half-h>uried  in  the  accumu- 
lations of  soil.  The  area  was  "filled  up  .  .  .  with  little 
houses  of  tradesmen,"  ^  and  on  the  exterior  shabby  tene- 
ments made  a  squalid  fringe.*  Not  until  after  the  Revolu- 
tion was  the  structure  restored  to  something  like  its  orig- 
inal state.  But  although  old  buildings  were  somewhat 
neglected  by  the  authorities,  the  tourist  business,  as  Smol- 
lett's account  shows,  was  sufficiently  active.  "I  had  no 
sooner  alighted  at  the  inn  than  I  was  presented  with  a 
pamphlet,  containing  an  account  of  Nismcs  and  its  an- 
tiquities, which  every  stranger  buys.  There  are  persons, 
too,  who  attend  in  order  to  show  the  town,  and  you  will 
always  be  accosted  by  some  shabby  antiquarian,  who  pre- 
sents you  with  medals  for  sale,  assuring  you  that  they  are 
genuine  antiques,  and  were  dug  out  of  the  Roman  temple 
and  baths.  All  these  fellows  are  cheats;  and  they  have 
often  laid  under  contribution  raw  English  travellers,  who 
had  more  money  than  discretion."  ^ 

After  Nimes  the  next  main  halting-place  was  Aries.  At 
Aries  Brcval  notes  that  the  amphitheater  "is  crowded,  to 
the  scandal  of  the  Magistrates,  with  beggarly  tenements, 
that  compose  a  sort  of  dirty  little  Town,  and  quite  obstruct 
the  View  of  one  of  the  most  magnificent  Fabricks  of  the 
kind  that  is  to  be  met  with  any  where  out  of  Italy."  He 
goes  on  to  speak  of  "the  diffictdty  and  expence  of  clearing 
away  such  immense  heaps  of  rubbish,  a  charge  few  cities 
could  or  would  at  this  time  be  at,  merely  to  preserve  an 
antiquity  of  no  manner  of  use  to  the  publick."  '  There  can 
be  little  question  that  the  eighteenth-century  tourist  far 
less  keenly  appreciated  the  classical,  and  particularly  the 
medieval,  remains  at  Aries  than  does  the  educated  tourist  of 
our  day.  Saint-Trophime,  with  its  exquisite  cloister,  stirred 
no  enthusiasm  in  minds  that  obstinately  regarded  all 
medieval  architecture  as  barbarous. 



Aix  in  Provence,  easily  reached  by  the  tourist  on  the 
way  from  Aries  to  Marseilles,  was  extremely  popular  with 
the  English.  The  modern  tourist  finds  much  of  the  town 
rather  dingy  and  dull,  but,  according  to  eighteenth-century 
standards,  it  was  handsomely  built,  adorned  with  "spa- 
cious squares  and  beautiful  fountains,"  ^  and  in  attractive- 
ness was  counted  inferior  only  to  Paris.  Says  "The  Gen- 
tleman's Guide":'  "This  town  will  perhaps  please  you 
better  than  any  you  have  yet  seen  in  France,  tho'  deficient 
in  amusements,  except  when  the  parliament  is  setting: 
in  winter  it  is  extremely  pleasant." 

Those  who  preferred  to  coast  along  the  Riviera  to  Italy 
rather  than  cross  the  mountains  found  it  convenient  to 
embark  at  Marseilles,  then  a  prosperous  commercial  city 
of  about  a  hundred  thousand  inhabitants.^  One  of  the 
most  ancient  cities  in  Europe,  Marseilles  nevertheless 
offered  singularly  little  in  the  way  of  antiquity  to  attract 
the  tourist,  and  practically  nothing  noteworthy  of  any 
other  period.  But  social  life  was  agreeable  there  and  some- 
times tempted  travelers  to  make  a  considerable  stay,* 
even  beyond  the  time  necessarily  spent  in  the  city  while 
arranging  to  go  elsewhere. 

Nearly  forty  miles  southeast  of  Marseilles  lay  Toulon,  a 
flourishing  seaport  which  many  tourists  preferred  to  INIar- 
seilles  as  a  point  of  departure  for  Italy.  Eight  miles  east 
of  Toulon,  Hycres  attracted  tourists  who  sought  a  mild 
climate.  One  day,  saj^s  Arthur  Young,  his  "landlord 
worried"  him  "with  a  list  of  the  English  that  pass  the 
winter  at  Hyeres."  ^ 

As  for  other  now  popular  resorts,  they  had  not  yet  begim 
to  attract  the  routine  tourist.  Cannes  was  only  an  old 
coast  town  in  the  eighteenth  century,  though  Smollett's 
sharp  eyes  detected  the  possibilities  that  have  made  it  the 
most  exclusive,  as  well  as  the  most  expensive,  watering- 
place  of  the  Riviera. 

The  Ri\'iera  was,  indeed,  only  beginning  to  be  appreciated 
in  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Dr.  Thomas  Lino- 
lett  in  1 7 1 4  had  discovered  the  attractions  of   Nice,  which 




was  not  yet  a  French  possession,  and  from  that  time  on  it 
became  increasingly  popular  as  a  health  resort  for  the 
"hectic  English"  on  their  way  to  or  from  Italy.  Smollett 
passed  about  a  year  and  a  half  in  the  place,  leaving  there  in 
May,  1765.  He  recorded  his  characteristic  impressions 
and  confessed  that  the  only  friendships  he  made  at  Nice 
were  with  strangers  sojourning  like  himself  for  a  season. 
Dupaty  notes  in  1785  that  "the  country  houses  of  the 
environs  of  Nice  are  peopled  with  EngHsh,  with  French, 
with  Germans;  each  of  them  is  a  colony."  ^  James  Edward 
Smith,  who  was  at  Nice  somewhat  later,  was  "disgusted 
with  the  gross  flattery  paid  here  to  strangers,  and  to  the 
English  in  particular.  The  whole  neighborhood  has  the 
air  of  an  English  watering-place."  " 

Nice  was  popular,  but  judged  by  the  scale  of  modem  re- 
sorts, it  was  a  small  affair.  Arthur  Young,  who  visited  the 
town  in  1789,  tells  us  that  "the  place  is  flourishing;  owing 
very  much  to  the  resort  of  foreigners,  principally  English, 
who  pass  the  winter  here,  for  the  benefit  and  pleasure  of  the 
climate."  And  in  proof  of  its  poptilarity  he  goes  on  to  say : 
"Last  winter  there  were  fifty-seven  EngHsh  and  nine 
French;  this  winter  they  think  it  will  be  nine  English  and 
fifty-seven  French."  ^ 

A  few  miles  east  of  Nice  lay  Monaco,  where  in  1785 
Dupaty  noted  "two  or  three  streets  upon  precipitous  rocks; 
eight  hundred  wretches  dying  of  hunger;  a  tumble-down 
castle ;  a  battallion  of  French  troops."  "  But  of  the  throngs 
of  strangers  who  in  our  day  have  made  the  neighboring 
Monte  Carlo  the  most  famous  center  of  gambling  in  the 
world  there  was  no  sign  in  the  eighteenth  century. 


The  ordinary  tour  from  Calais  through  Paris  to  the  Alps 
or  the  Mediterranean  was  no  small  undertaking,  and  it 
demanded  as  great  an  outlay  of  money  and  time  as  many 
travelers  could  afford.  They  therefore  went,  as  we  have 
seen,  through  to  Italy  by  way  of  Paris  and  Lyons,  ignoring 




everything  in  France  outside  a  few  notable  cities.  A  typical 
case  is  Dr.  John  Moore,  who  saw  little  besides  Paris,  Lyons, 
and  Strassbnrg.^  But  less  hurried  travelers,  particularly  if 
not  bent  upon  going  to  Italy,  endeavored  to  see  some  other 
portions  of  France.  Babeau  points  out  that  already  in  1 6 7  2 , 
Le  Sieur  de  Saint-Maurice  had  printed  a  guide  for  the  use 
of  strangers  traveling  in  France.  In  this  book  he  describes 
the  principal  routes  that  the  Germans,  the  English,  and  the 
Hollanders  followed  in  going  to  Paris.  Then  he  outlines 
"le  grand  et  le  petit  tour  de  France"  — the  grand  tour 
by  Lyons,  Marseilles,  Toulouse,  Bordeaux,  and  Paris;  the 
little  tour  from  Paris  to  Tours  and  Poitiers. ^  These  plans 
for  a  tour  remained  popular  throughout  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  were  followed  with  manifold  variation  by  Eng- 
lish travelers.  If  they  returned  from  Italy  through  France, 
they  were  likely  to  vary  their  course  by  coming  up  through 
the  country  to  the  west  of  the  Rhone. 

In  Italy,  the  geographical  situation  of  Rol5ie  and  Naples 
in  a  sense  compelled  a  tour  following  one  of  two  or  three 
routes.  But  France  in  the  eighteenth  centiuy  was  covered 
with  a  network  of  well-kept  post-roads  leading  from  Paris 
to  the  chief  seaports  of  the  north  and  the  south  and  to  the 
larger  cities  of  the  provinces.  Yet  until  the  advent  of  the 
motor-car,  which  has  made  the  remotest  comers  of  France 
easily  accessible,  luxtuious  tourists,  even  within  recent 
years,  showed  some  disinclination  to  venture  far  from  well- 
known  centers.  To  enimierate  all  the  places  in  France 
which  are  now  counted  as  of  exceptional  interest,  but  in  the 
eighteenth  century  were  commonly  neglected,  would  be  an 
endless  task.  Some  regions,  indeed,  as,  for  example,  La 
Vendue,  were  ill  provided  with  roads,  but  the  lack  did  not 
greatly  disturb  the  average  tourist,  who  had  no  desire  what- 
ever to  traverse  La  Vendee.  Even  yet  it  is  by  no  means  an 
ordinary  tourist  center.  But  as  an  indication  of  the  change 
in  attitude  since  the  eighteenth  centiury,  we  may  comment 
upon  a  few  districts  of  another  type. 

A  good  representative  of  average  eighteenth-century 
taste  is  Nugent,  who  omits  from  his  "Grand  Tour"  what- 



ever  is  not  likely  to  serve  the  needs  of  ordinary  tourists. 
For  example,  he  makes  no  mention  of  Cluny,  Seez,  Fou- 
geres,  Vichy,  Biarritz,  Pau,  LePuy,  Bourg  (with  the  won- 
derful church  of  Brou),  P6rigueux,  Angouleme,  and  scores 
of  other  places.  Too  much  should  not  be  made  of  mere 
omission  from  a  guide-book  of  moderate  size,  but  some 
places  at  least  in  this  list  would  find  mention  in  the  briefest 
of  modem  guides.  No  portion  of  France  to-day  is  more 
admired  than  the  valley  of  the  Loire,  where,  among  other 
attractions,  are  the  chateaux  of  Azay  le  Rideau  and  Chen- 
onceaux,  the  fascinating  abbey  of  Fontevrault,  and  the 
richly  restored  ^ch^teau  of  Langeais.  But  Nugent  passes 
them  all  by  in  his  "Grand  Tour"  without  a  word.  To 
Clenche,  Amboise  was  nothing  but  "a  wretched  little  wall'd 
town"  with  an  "old  ruinous  castle."  ^  Blois  had  "nothing 
good  in  it  but  its  scituation."  ^  Breval  in  his  day  made  the 
round  of  the  chateaux  in  the  valley  of  the  Loire,  but  he 
omits  all  mention  of  Azay-le-Rideau,  Chenonceaux,  and 
the  historic  ruins  of  Loches. 

But  we  must  not  imagine  that  eighteenth-century  tourists 
failed  to  get  keen  satisfaction  from  a  good  number  of  the 
regions  they  visited.  In  their  fashion  they  were  fond  of  the 
valley  of  the  Loire.  The  ancient  city  of  Tours  attracted 
many  English,  some  of  whom  constantly  resided  there. 
"No  city  in  France,"  says  Evelyn,  "exceeds  it  in  beauty 
or  delight."  ^  He  spent  nineteen  weeks  in  the  place;  and 
eighteenth-century  tourists  felt  very  much  at  home  there. 
The  French  spoken  at  Tours  was  regarded  as  exceptionally 
good,  and  the  ways  of  the  people  agreeable.  As  for  Blois, 
"this,"  says  Nugent,  "is  one  of  the  pleasantest  cities^in 
France  ,  .  .  Here  the  French  tongue  is  spoken  in  its 
greatest  purity."  ^  But  the  beautiful  chateau  was  much 
neglected  in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  so  badly  out  of 
repair  that  few  tourists  found-  it  worthy  of  praise. 

Further  up  the  Loire,  Orleans,  with  its  historic  memo- 
ries, its  handsome  streets,  its  interesting  architecture,  its 
quiet  and  beautiful  environs  with  their  wealth  of  plain  and 
forest,  satisfied  the  taste  of  the  eighteenth  century  and . 



attracted  a  good  share  of  English  tourists.  "  'Tis  now," 
says  Nugent,  "one  of  the  largest  and  pleasantest  cities  in 
France.  .  .  .  The  streets  are  neat  and  broad,  and  the 
houses  in  general  are  fair  and  beautiful,  though  ancient."  ^ 

West  of  the  Rhone  Valley  and  south  of  the  Loire  are  some 
of  the  most  interesting  towns  in  France,  most  of  which, 
however,  received  little  or  no  intelligent  attention  from 
eighteenth-century  tourists.  As  a  single  instance,  take 
Carcassonne,  perhaps  the  most  picturesque  example  in 
France  of  the  fortified  towns  of  the  Middle  Ages.  But 
Breval  devotes  twenty  lines  to  Carcassonne  without  special 
mention  of  the  medieval  fortifications,  merely  observing 
that  "it  has  a  strong  modern  castle  which  commands  it."  ^ 
Clenche's  remarks  are  distinctly  contemptuous.  Carcas- 
sonne, says  he,  "is  in  two  parts,  both  distinctly  Wall'd, 
call'd  the  citty  and  the  town,  but  neither  of  them  worth 
notice,  nor  yet  the  castle;  the  country  here  is  stony  and 
barren,  and  about  this  town  are  the  first  olive-trees  I  have 
found."  3 

The  modern  tourist  will,  however,  be  interested  to  learn 
that  Breval  sufficiently  appreciated  the  exquisite  church  of 
Brou  to  count  it  "as  well  with  respect  to  its  architecture 
as  to  the  monuments  .  .  .  one  of  the  noblest  modem  Pieces 
in  the  South  of  France."  * 

Naturally  enough,  the  wild  and  beautiful  valleys  that 
cut  into  the  northern  slopes  of  the  Pyrenees  were  neglected 
by  tourists,  for  here,  as  elsewhere,  the  charm  of  the  moun- 
tains was  hardly  felt.  Throughout  Europe  the  change  in 
taste  since  1750  has  opened  scores  and  even  hundreds  of 
resorts  in  the  mountains  and  along  the  seashore  that  to 
eighteenth-century  tourists  seemed  to  offer  nothing. 

We  can  by  no  means  consider  all  the  provincial  towns  of 
France  that  were  visited  by  curious  and  active  tourists. 
We  must  remember  that  individual  Englishmen  often  hid 
themselves  in  unfrequented  corners  of  the  country.  But 
with  few  exceptions  the  towns  along  the  main  routes  ab- 
sorbed the  interest  of  sight-seers. 

Such  a  tour  was  Sterne's  in  1762.     "On  Monday  the 



nineteenth  of  July,  as  near  as  can  be  made  out,  the  Sternes 
began  the  long  and  expensive  journey  to  Toulouse  by  way 
of  Lyons,  Avignon,  and  Montpellier,  travelling  by  post 
most  of  the  way,  as  was  Sterne's  custom.  Their  chaise, 
which  was  narrow  and  cramped,  despite  the  care  for  Lydia's 
feet,  they  piled  with  baggage,  before  and  aft,  mountains 
high.  For  such  a  load  were  necessary  at  least  four  horses 
with  two  postillions,  which  would  be  exchanged  for  fresh 
ones  at  the  successive  stages.  As  the  posts  were  then 
farmed  out  by  the  king,  the  exactions  were  most  oppres- 
sive, especially  at  royal  posts  like  Lyons,  where  one  paid 
double.  .  .  .  Sterne  chose  the  longest  route  to  Toulouse 
with  the  manifest  intent  of  sight-seeing.  To  this  end  he 
took  along,  as  any  one  may  see,  the  '  Nouveau  Voyage  en 
France,'  by  Piganiol  de  la  Force,  the  Baedeker  of  the 
period,  who  mapped  out  all  the  post-roads,  and  described 
all  the  things  which  a  traveler  should  observe  by  the  way 
and  at  the  halting-places."  ^ 

Sterne  and  his  family  spent  more  than  a  year  at  Toulouse, 
and  their  choice  is  not  surprising.  Those  who  wished  to 
make  a  prolonged  stay  in  France  found  the  old  historic 
city  full  of  interesting  survivals  of  medieval  and  Renais- 
sance architecture,  and  remarkably  inexpensive.  "The 
Gentleman's  Guide"  unreservedly  says:  "I  know  no 
town  in  France  where  an  Englishman  may  learn  the  polite 
arts  and  sciences  at  so  easy  a  rate,  or  live  cheaper,  or  more 
to  his  satisfaction,  on  a  small  income."  2  Lady  Knight 
lived  a  considerable  time  at  Toulouse,  and  she  writes  in 
1776:  "Most  of  the  Irish,  Scotch,  and  a  few  EngHsh  that 
are  here  game  high,  but" there  is  a  great  deal  of  very  good 
company."  ^ 

But  here  as  elsewhere  there  were  some  drawbacks. 
Even  after  the  French  Revolution  we  are  told:  "Toulouse 
is  large  and  well-bmlt,  but  horribly  filthy.  It  contains 
67,000  inhabitants,  and  has  much  the  appearance  of  pros- 
perity. How  the  people  of  this  place,  and  of  some  others  in 
the  South  of  France,  can  tolerate  the  detestable  stench  of 
their  own  nuisances,  is  marvellous."  ^ 



Easily  accessible  to  tourists  on  the  way  to  or  from  Italy, 
Montpellier  offered  special  attractions  to  Englishmen, 
many  of  whom  passed  a  few  days  or  weeks  in  the  town. 
Says  Nugent,  "Vast  numbers  of  consumptive  people  flock 
hither  from  all  parts  of  Europe,  especially  from  England,  to 
breathe  this  air,  which  is  said  to  have  a  good  effect  upon 
bodies  of  a  moist  and  phlegmatic  temperament."  ^  Even 
the  irascible  Smollett,  who  was  there  shortly  before  Sterne, 
has  a  good  word  for  the  place,  which  was  noted  for  its 
sociability  and  the  beauty  of  the  women.  The  day  after 
Smollett's  party  arrived,  "we  were  visited,"  says  he,  "by 
the  English  residing  in  the  place,  who  always  pay  this  mark 
of  respect  to  new  comers.  They  consist  of  four  or  five  fami- 
lies, among  whom  I  could  pass  the  winter  very  agreeably, 
if  the  state  of  my  health  and  other  reasons  did  not  call  me 
away."  ^  Sterne  found  the  English  families  living  in 
"houses  or  apartments  near  one  another  for  free  inter- 
course"; ^   and  he  remained  several  months. 

In  general,  as  we  see,  Montpellier  suited  even  captious 
English  tourists.  But  the  author  of  "The  Gentleman's 
Guide"  complains:  "This  town  has  been  long  famous  for 
(what  I,  and  many  of  my  countrymen  sadly  experienced 
it  does  not  in  the  least  degree  possess)  a  salubrious  air  and 
skilful  physicians."  * 

We  might  fill  many  pages  with  specimen  routes  that 
were  followed  by  well-known  tourists,  but  of  course  nobody 
dreamt  of  going  everywhere.  One  city  deserves  a  word  of 
mention.  Rheims,  with  its  wonderful  cathedral,  its  an- 
cient abbey  of  Saint-Remi,  its  Roman  triiunphal  arch,  its 
well-built  houses,  and,  moreover,  its  easy  accessibility,  drew 
a  good  number  of  tourists  on  their  way  through  northern 
France  to  Italy.  Gray  writes  in  1739  to  Aston:  "On 
Monday  next  we  set  out  for  Rheims  (where  we  expect  to 
be  very  dull)  there  to  stay  a  Month  or  two,  then  we  cross 
Burgundy  and  Dauphiny,  and  so  go  to  Avignon,  Aix, 
Marseilles,  etc."  ^ 

Last  of  all,  we  may  note  the  route  from  Paris  to  Bordeaux 
and  thence  to  Bayonne  and  Madrid.    "This,"  says  Nugent, 



"is  one  of  the  longest,  most  curious,  and  most  convenient 
tours  a  traveller  can  take  thro'  France;  being  a  journey  of 
about  one  hundred  and  seventy  leagues,  thro'  a  fruitful, 
populous  country,  where  the  roads  are  very  good,  and  you 
meet  with  the  best  of  accommodation  in  the  public  inns. 
It  is  the  road  generally  used  by  those  who  go  from  Paris  to 
Madrid."  ^ 

The  post-route  proceeded  from  Paris  through  Orleans, 
Blois,  Amboise,  Tours,  Poitiers,  and  thence  through  unim- 
portant towns  to  Bordeaux.  The  stage-coach  followed 
much  the  same  route  (with  the  omission  of  Tours)  as  far  as 
Poitiers.  From  here  it  went  through  Saintes  to  Blaye. 
From  Blaye  a  vessel  carried  passengers  up  the  Garonne  to 
Bordeaux.  Tourists  going  on  to  Bayonne  went  by  way  of 
Belin,  Belloc,  and  Saint- Vincent.^ 

Tourists  bound  for  Spain  could  also  proceed  by  coach 
from  Bordeaux  to  Dax  and  thence  by  private  carriage  or  by 
water  to  Bayonne.  The  road  to  Madrid  passed  through 
Saint-Jean  de  Luz,  Iran,  and  Burgos.^  This  route  from 
Paris  to  Madrid  was  "much  the  shortest  way";  but  the 
longer  route  through  Languedoc  to  Narbonne  by  Limoges, 
Toulouse,  Carcassonne,  and  Perpignan,  or  by  Lyons  and 
Lower  Languedoc  through  Nimes  and  Montpellier,  was  by 
far  the  pleasanter.^ 

To  some  of  these  places  we  have  already  given  a  word  of 
comment.  We  can  now  pause  for  a  mere  glimpse  of  Poi- 
tiers and  Bordeaux.  Poitiers,  the  capital  of  the  old  prov- 
ince of  Poitou,  was  frequently  included  in  the  grand  tour 
of  France,  and  was  visited  on  the  way  to  or  from  Bordeaux. 
In  mere  area  Poitiers  was  surpassed  only  by  Paris,  but,  as 
Nugent  remarks,  "within  the  compass  of  the  walls  there 
are  a  great  many  gardens,  meadows,  and  corn-fields."  ^ 
With  its  walls  and  towers  and  its  multitude  of  ancient 
churches  and  monasteries,  the  city  constantly  reminded  the 
tourist  of  the  Middle  Ages,  as  it  does  to-day.  But  there 
was  not  much  doing  at  Poitiers,  and  as  a  resort  it  was  far 
less  poptilar  than  Dijon  or  Tours  or  Aix. 

Bordeaux,  the  great  Atlantic  seaport  of  the  south  of 



France,  with  its  beautiful  situation,  its  spacious  harbor 
filled  with  ships  from  all  the  seas,  with  its  picturesque 
streets,  its  ancient  twin-towered  cathedral,  and  its  mani- 
fold public  institutions,  had  been  famous  for  hundreds  of 
years  and  naturally  received  its  share  of  the  stream  of 
travel.  Tourists  found  the  older  streets  within  the  fortifi- 
cations too  narrow  and  ill-built,  but  they  were  enthusiastic 
over  the  magnificence  of  the  buildings  in  the  newer  quar- 
ters. As  is  the  case  to-day,  one  had  to  make  a  special 
effort  to  get  to  Bordeaux,  but  few  cities  in  France  gave 
more  satisfaction  to  those  who  made  the  long  journey. 


One  who  ventured  to  travel  in  Spain  was  rather  an  ex- 
plorer than  an  ordinary  tourist.  There  were,  indeed, 
numerous  English  and  French  and  Dutch  merchants  at  the 
chief  Spanish  seaports,  and  there  were  a  few  travelers  in 
Spain  and  even  in  Portugal ;  *  but  the  extreme  difficulty  of 
Spanish  travel  prevented  more  than  an  occasional  ven- 
turesome sight-seer  from  attempting  to  extend  his  tour  to 
the  Iberian  Peninsula.  Even  in  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century  one  had  to  submit  to  inconveniences  hardly  to  be 
paralleled  to-day  in  the  remoter  portions  of  South  America. 
As  late  as  1776,  Sherlock  had  an  interview  with  Voltaire  in 
which  Spain  was  mentioned.  The  octogenarian  sage  re- 
marked: "It  is  a  country  of  which  we  know  no  more  than 
of  the  most  savage  parts  of  Africa,  and  it  is  not  worth  the 
trouble  of  being  known.  If  a  man  would  travel  there,  he 
must  carry  his  bed,  etc.  When  he  comes  into  a  town,  he 
must  go  into  one  street  to  buy  a  bottle  of  wine,  a  piece  of 
a  mule  in  another,  he  finds  a  table  in  a  third,  and  he  sups. 
A  French  nobleman  was  passing  through  Pampeluna:  he 
sent  out  for  a  spit;  there  was  only  one  in  the  town,  and 
that  was  borrowed  for  a  wedding."  ^ 

Voltaire's  lively  picture  must  not  be  taken  to  represent 
the  whole  of  Spain.  "For  some  time  back,"  says  Botur- 
goanne,  "very  tolerable  inns  are  to  be  met  with  in  Spain. 



On  the  roads  along  which  the  coaches  run,  some  are  estab- 
lished, provided  with  beds,  linen,  and  even  plate;   and  the 
innkeepers  are  allowed  to  keep  eatables  for  travellers.    Be- 
sides, on  this  road  there  are  others  which  are  pretty  good, 
particularly  in  principal  towns;  but  every  where  else  to  the 
present  day  one  must  expect  inns  entirely  destitute  of  con- 
veniences, and  so  disgusting,  in  short,  as  not  to  falsify  the 
accounts  of  travellers.  ...  But  who  will  take  a  trip  to 
Spain  merely  to  behold,  here  fine  roads  traversing  arid 
plains,  as  is  the  case  in  the  two  Castilles;   there  dreadful 
roads  in  countries  blest  with  fertility  and  industry,   as 
along  the  coasts  of  the  kingdoms  of  Valentia  and  ckta- 
lonia;   to  meet  with  towns  deserted  and  in  ruins,  a  court 
not  abounding  with  delights,  few  monuments,  the  arts  but 
in  their  cradle,  a  burning  climate  and  the  Inquisition?"  » 
^  The  ordinary  directions  to  tourists  are  sufficiently  sugges- 
tive of  the  state  of  Spanish  civilization:   "To  travel  com- 
modiously  in  Spain,  a  man  should  have  a  good  constitution, 
two  good  servants,  letters  of  credit  for  the  principal  cities,' 
and  a  proper  introduction  to  the  best  families,  both  of  the 
native  inhabitants  and  of  strangers  settled  in  the  country: 
the  language  will  be  easily  acquired." 

For  his  journey  the  tourist  was  advised  to  purchase  three 
strong  mules.  "In  his  baggage  he  should  have  sheets,  a 
mattress,  a  blanket,  and  a  quilt,  a  table-cloth,  knives, 
forks,  and  spoons,  with  a  copper  vessel  sufficiently  capa- 
cious to  boil  his  meat.  This  should  be  furnished  with  a 
cover  and  a  lock.  Each  of  his  servants  should  have  a  gun, 
slung  by  the  side  of  his  mule."  2 

"To  travel  as  an  economist  in  Spain,  a  man  must  be  con- 
tented to  take  his  chance  for  conveyance,  and  either  go  by 
the  post  wherever  it  is  established,  or  join  with  officers 
going  to  their  various  stations;  to  hire  a  coach,  or  quietly 
resign  himself  to  a  calash,  a  calasine,  a  horse,  a  mule,  or  a 
borrico.  These  last  are  the  most  convenient  for  the  purpose 
of  crossing  the  country,  or  of  wandering  among  the  moun- 
tains. If  he  is  to  traverse  any  district  infested  by  banditti, 
it  will  be  safe  for  him  to  go  by  the  common  carriers;   in 



which  case  he  will  be  mounted  on  a  good  mule,  and  take 
the  place  which  would  have  been  occupied  by  some  bale  of 
goods."  ^ 

The  tourist  was  advised  to  begin  his  Spanish  trip  in 
autumn,  in  order  to  avoid  the  burning  heat  of  summer. 
His  route  as  commonly  outlined  was  singularly  like  the 
ordinary  tourist  round  to-day,  and  included  at  the  outset 
Bayonne,  Burgos,  Valladolid,  Segovia,  Madrid.  In  the 
cotirse  of  the  winter  he  was  to  see  Toledo,  Cordova,  Seville, 
Cadiz,  Gibraltar,  Malaga,  Granada,  Carthagena,  Murcia, 
Alicante,  Valencia,  Barcelona.  Touring  in  the  spring  to  the 
west  he  could  go  to  Saragossa,  Aranjuez,  Salamanca,  and 
Leon,  seeing  various  places  in  "Galicia,  the  Asturias,  and 
the  provinces  of  Biscay."  This  was  the  plan  followed  by 
Joseph  Townsend,  the  geologist,  in  1786,  1787.^ 

But  the  tour  in  Spain  was  at  best  a  very  modified  form 
of  pleasure.  The  roads  were  neglected  and  often  im- 
passable except  on  horseback  or  muleback,  the  carriages 
primitive,  the  inns  ill-kept  and  filthy,  the  cities  dilapidated 
and  sadly  lacking  in  the  most  ordinary  sanitation.  In 
the  latter  half  of  the  eighteenth  century  improvement  was 
noticeable,  particularly  in  the  roads  and  the  means  of 
public  conveyance,'  but  even  down  to  our  own  day  a  trav- 
eler has  had  only  to  deviate  a  little  from  the  beaten  track 
to  encounter  conditions  that  he  can  hardly  believe  possible 
in  Europe. 

It  is,  then,  needless  for  our  purpose  to  follow  the  few 
eighteenth-century  travelers  who  ventured  into  Spain. 
Our  business  is  with  the  average  tourist  who  kept  to  the 
ordinary  routes. 




Most  people  who  flock  to  Switzerland  as  to  a  summer 
paradise  fail  to  consider  how  recently  it  has  been  included 
as  an  essential  part  of  an  extended  European  tour;  for, 
with  the  exception  of  a  half-dozen  interesting  cities,  Switzer- 
land had  little  to  offer  the  eighteenth-century  tourist  be- 
sides lakes,  waterfalls,  mountains,  and  glaciers.  Pro- 
tected behind  its  mountain  barriers,  Switzerland  led  a 
tranquil  and  moderately  prosperous  existence.  In  a  peculiar 
sense  it  was  isolated  from  the  rest  of  Europe  and  played 
small  part  in  the  councils  of  the  great  powers.  Tourists 
commonly  devoted  little  time  to  Switzerland,  and  their  atti- 
tude was  that  of  the  world  in  general.  As  is  well  known,  the 
taste  of  travelers  before  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century 
did  not  much  incline  toward  rough  and  precipitous  scenery,^ 
but  toward  the  softer  beauties  of  the  verdant  plain,  the 
quiet  lake,  and  the  mossy  dell.  A  grazing  flock  of  sheep,  a 
piping  shepherd,  an  ivy-grown  ruin,  presented  a  picture 
that  seemed  ideal.  Poets  now  and  then  bestowed  perfunc- 
tory descriptive  epithets  upon  mountains,  but  in  general 
sought  more  inviting  themes.  As  for  the  English  tourists 
of  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  trained  as  they 
were  to  admire  debased  neo-classic  architecture  and  artifi- 
cial ruins  and  cascades,  and  trees  trimmed  into  the  shape 
of  peacocks  and  birds  of  paradise,  they  were  unlikely  to  go 
far  out  of  their  way  for  the  sake  of  viewing  the  rugged  peaks 
and  the  frightful  chasms  of  the  Alps,^  but  they  hastened  on 
to  the  cities  in  which  they  found  delight.  The  ecstasies  of 
Ruskin  over  the  beauty  and  grandeur  of  mountain  scenery 
would  have  been  intelligible  to  few  of  the  contemporaries  of 
Addison  and  Swift  and  Pope.^    The  poet  Gray  was,  indeed, 



one  of  the  early  admirers  of  rough  mountain  scenery,  and 
this,  too,  notwithstanding  his  timid  disposition.  But  in 
accord  with  eighteenth-century  conventions  tourists  in  the 
presence  of  mountains  ordinarily  exhibited  terror,  or  at  all 
events  showed  no  liking  for  them.  Mountains'were  gloomy, 
frowning,  oppressive,  and  a  disfigurement  of  the  landscape. 
The  seventeenth-century  Misson  finds  it  "matter  enough  of 
astonishment,  that  any  one  should  venture  himself  among 
the  cliffs  and  precipices  of  such  dismal  mountains."  ^  This 
feeling  was  centuries  old  and  was  first  overcome  in  the 
eighteenth  century  itself.  At  a  safe  distance  a  traveler 
might  now  and  then  appreciate  even  a  mountain.  Misson 
himself  remarks:  "There  cannot  be  a  more  pleasant  road 
than  that  between  Geneva  and  Lausanne.  .  .  .  We  rarely 
lost  sight  of  the  lake ;  and  sometimes  on  the  other  side  piles 
of  lofty  and  forked  mountains,  always  glittering  with  im- 
memorial snow,  which  gives  to  the  prospect  a  very  pleasing 
variety."  ^ 

His  contemporary.  Dr.  Northleigh,  was  not  so  courageous : 
"We  were  no  sooner  passed  the  bridge  of  Pontbeauvoisin, 
but  we  were  sensible  of  the  difference  of  the  country;  for 
whereas  we  had  left  behind  us  the  fertile  plains  of  Dau- 
phiny,  the  other  side  of  the  banks  of  the  same  river  repre- 
sented to  our  view  the  frightful  Alps,  the  precipices  whereof 
would  have  been  more  dreadful  to  us,  had  not  the  many 
vineyards  we  found  on  the  first  ascent  taken  off  a  great  part 
of  the  horror  we  had  conceived  at  the  first  sight  of  them."  ^ 

Even  late  in  the  eighteenth  century  the  dread  of  the 
mountains  survived:  "Far  off  lay  the  mountains  of  Switz- 
erland, forming  a  most  awful  and  tremendous  amphi- 
theatre. When  first  I  turned  my  glass  upon  them,  if  I  may 
so  express  myself,  and  brought  their  terrors  closer  to  my 
eye,  I  started  with  affright!  My  friend  the  curate  perceiv- 
ing my  amazement,  said  to  me.  Ah!  Monsieur  I' Anglais, 
vous  voyez  Id  de  belles  horreurs!  And  in  fact  they  were  so. 
.  .  .  Perhaps  on  approaching,  and  having  them  contin- 
ually in  view,  they  would  not  appear  so  dreadful  as  at  first ; 
but  even  yet  at  so  great  a  distance,  I  could  not  behold  them 



through  a  glass  without  terror;  and  even  was  pleased  that 
I  was  distant  from  them."  ^ 

In  general,  the  estimate  of  scenery  is  that  of  Keysler, 
in  commenting  on  the  road  from  Lucca  to  Pistoia:  "The 
first  five  miles  are  over  a  most  charming  plain.  .  .  . 
There  cannot  be  a  finer  scene  than  the  plain  country 
hereabouts."  ^  Entirely  in  harmony  is  Bromley's  ad- 
miration for  the  plain  of  Lombardy:  "I  never  travelled 
a  more  pleasant  road  than  this  thro'  Lombardy  from 
Milan  hither,  the  country  all  flat  and  plain,  and  exceeding 
rich."  3 

That  the  ordinary  English  tourist  had  small  admira- 
tion for  the  Alps  cannot,  then,  be  especially  counted 
against  him.  He  was  but  conforming  to  the  spirit  of  his 
age,  which,  with  Pope,  felt  that  "the  proper  study  of 
mankind  is  man."  Moreover,  as  Palgrave  well  remarks: 
"There  was  nothing  of  charm,  no  romance,  in  the  pain- 
fulness  with  which  mountain  regions  were  traversed  two 
hundred  years  since  and  later;  nor  could  the  discomforts 
of  the  road  attune  a  traveller's  mind  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  the  sublime.  Hence  Alpine  scenery,  peaks  and 
passes,  left  Addison  with  no  feeling  but  of  horror  and 
repugnance,  and  only  wakened  even  Gray  himself  to  a 
dawning  sense  of  their  latent  poetry."  ^  Accordingly, 
until  the  eighteenth  century  was  far  spent,  the  Alps, 
except  as  they  could  be  viewed  from  a  distance,  were 
to  most  Englishmen  an  entirely  undiscovered  country.^ 
Few  tourists,  in  fact,  wotdd  have  known  what  to  do  with 
their  time  if  they  had  gone  to  the  mountains.  They  hardly 
imagined  that  rational  men  would  climb  a  mountain 
unless  compelled  to  do  so.  Any  one  foolish  enough  to 
risk  his  life  in  scaling  a  difficult  peak  would  have  run  the 
further  risk  of  having  his  sanity  called  in  question  by  stay- 
at-home  people.^ 

Moreover,  even  if  tourists  had  cared  to  visit  the  moun- 
tains, they  would  have  had  to  put  up  with  the  roughest 
accommodations  and  to  fare  like  the  peasants.  Tourist 
hotels  in  places  like  Zermatt  or  the  Rhone  Glacier,  now 



among  the  most  popular  resorts  in  Switzerland,  were 
not  dreamed  of.  At  Zermatt,  indeed,  there  was  no  hotel 
until  1839.*  Coxe  records  at  the  Grimsel  Pass  on  a  day 
in  August:  "Last  night  I  lay  in  the  hayloft,  without  any 
covering :  I  declare  my  blood  has  scarcely  recovered  its  cir- 
culation." 2  On  the  Col  di  Tenda,  as  late  as  1792,  we  are 
told:  "The  inn  here  is  a  crazy  hovel,  containing  scarcely 
one  whole  window,  and  no  sitting  room,  except  that  which 
serves  in  common  for  postillions,  porters,  gentlemen, 
poultry,  and  hogs."  '  Even  as  late  as  1847  those  who 
crossed  the  Simplon  were  warned  in  a  popular  guide-book: 
"This  village  (Simplon)  is  the  most  miserable  and  most 
wretched  cluster  of  wretched  hovels  to  be  met  with  be- 
tween Ostend  and  Naples.  The  inn  (post-house)  is  dear 
and  dirty;  damp  sheets,  hard  bread,  hard  water,  hard 
old  hens,  and  of  course  hard  eggs;  this  is  what  the  Red 
Mask*   calls    'good   accommodation.'"''^ 

Most  of  the  mountain  inns  ^  remained  bad  notwith- 
standing the  constantly  increasing  stream  of  travel  into 
Italy.  But  at  least  a  part  of  the  insufficient  accommo- 
dation Vv'as  due  to  the  irregularity  of  the  arrival  of  guests. 
"At  one  of  the  inns,"  says  Sharp,  "I  asked  the  servant 
maid  if  they  were  not  often  a  long  time  without  seeing 
company?  'Yes,'  said  she,  'sometimes,  in  the  winter, 
we  are  three  or  four  days  without  seeing  a  soul,  and  then 
they  come  in  such  crowds  that  we  can  hardly  provide 
beds  for  them.'"'  Moreover,  the  charges  were  often 
extortionate.  Keysler  advises  the  traveler  about  to 
cross  Mont  Cenis:  "It  is  the  more  necessary  here  to  in- 
clude lodging  and  entertainment,  as  by  that  means  the 
extravagant  impositions  of  the  inn-keepers  are  prevented, 
as  the  postilions  know  the  prices  of  wines,  and  all  kinds 
of  eatables."  ^ 

Naturally  enough,  then,  in  view  of  all  these  obstacles, 
the  account  of  eighteenth-century  mountaineering  for 
pleasure  in  Switzerland  does  not  make  a  long  story. 
During  the  greater  part  of  the  century  tourists  on  their 
way  to  or  from  Italy  regarded  the   high  mountains   as 



something  to  be  avoided  if  possible,  and  in  crossing  the 
Alps  they  did  so  with  all  expedition.  Timid  travelers  did 
not  venture  them  at  all,  but  coasted  along  the  Riviera 
from  Marseilles  or  Toulon  to  Genoa  and  thence  to  Spezia 
or  Leghorn. 

In  the  seventeenth  century  the  occasional  tourists 
who  visited  Switzerland  kept  for  the  most  part  to  the 
towns,  and  this  continued  to  be  the  rule  until  the  last 
quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Gilbert  Burnet  in 
1686  wrote  interestingly  of  the  cities  and  of  the  coun- 
try as  a  whole,^  but  he  had  little  to  say  of  the  districts 
that  most  attract  the  modern  tourist. 

The  eighteenth-century  return  to  nature  brought  with 
it  a  new  insight  into  the  beauty  of  wild  mountain  scenery. 
Albrecht  von  Haller's  poem  on  "The  Alps"  was  a  reve- 
lation to  the  world  and  a  forerunner  of  all  the  nineteenth- 
century  poetic  rapture  over  mountains.  Yet  for  three 
quarters  of  a  century  after  Burnet  wrote,  Switzerland 
occupied  little  of  the  time  of  tourists  except  as  they  saw 
it  incidentally  on  their  way  to  other  parts  of  Europe. 
In  the  four  volumes  of  Nugent 's  "Grand  Tour"  —  the 
successor  of  Misson's  famous  book  —  very  few  pages 
are  devoted  to  Switzerland,  though  Nugent  professes 
to  give  a  complete  guide  to  all  that  is  best  worth  seeing 
on  the  Continent. 

A  generation  later  than  Nugent's  book,  Archdeacon 
Coxe's  admirable  account  of  Switzerland  marks  the 
dawn  of  a  new  era  in  Swiss  travel.  He  takes  a  genuine 
delight  in  the  contemplation  of  the  grandeur  of  the  moun- 
tains, and  has  the  point  of  view  of  the  modern  tourist. 
In  traversing  the  Furca  Pass  he  observes:  "I  frequently 
quit  my  party,  and  either  go  on  before  or  loiter  behind, 
that  I  may  enjoy  uninterrupted,  and  with  a  sort  of  mel- 
ancholy pleasure,  these  sublime  exhibitions  of  Nature 
in  her  most  awful  and  tremendous  forms.  "^  Throughout 
his  book  Coxe  shows  real  appreciation  of  the  scenery  of 
the  Alps,  though  his  praise  is  somewhat  formal  and  heavy. 
He  is  at  his  best  in  his  account  of  the  Rhine  Fall:  "A 



scaffolding  is  erected  in  the  very  spray  of  this  tremendous 
cataract  and  upon  the  most  sublime  point  of  view;  the  sea 
of  foam  rushing  down;  the  continual  cloud  of  spray  scat- 
tered to  a  great  distance,  and  to  a  considerable  height; 
in  short  the  magnificence  of  the  whole  scenery  far  sur- 
passed my  most  sanguine  expectations,  and  exceeds  all 
description."  ^ 

In  the  same  spirit  of  enthusiasm  Dr.  Moore  writes  of 
his  Swiss  tour,  "in  which  a  greater  variety  of  sublime  and 
interesting  objects  offer  themselves  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  the  traveller  than  can  be  found  in  any  other  part 
of  the  globe  of  the  same  extent."^  And  later  he  adds: 
"No  country  in  the  world  can  be  more  agreeable  to  travv 
ellers  during  the  summer  than  Switzerland:  For  besides 
the  commodious  roads  and  comfortable  inns,  some  of 
the  most  beautiful  objects  of  nature,  woods,  mountains, 
lakes  intermingled  with  fertile  fields,  vineyards,  and 
scenes  of  the  most  perfect  cultivation,  are  here  presented 
to  the  eye  in  greater  variety,  and  on  a  larger  scale,  than 
in  any  other  country."  ^ 

In  company  with  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  and  others. 
Dr.  Moore  went  up  on  the  glaciers  by  Chamonix,  merely 
for  the  sake  of  the  scenery.^  Commonplace  as  this  ex- 
ploit may  now  appear,  it  was  of  marked  significance 
as  indicating  the  changing  attitude  toward  mountains 
before  1780.  Englishmen  are  commonly  credited  with 
taking  in  new  ideas  slowly.  But  when  they  really  grasp 
a  new  conception  they  adopt  it  very  thoroughly.  So  it 
was  with  the  conquest  of  Switzerland  by  the  ever-increas- 
ing army  of  English  tourists  who  came  to  enjoy  the  moun- 
tains and  not  to  shudder  at  them.  The  closing  years 
of  the  eighteenth  century  and  the  opening  years  of  the 
nineteenth  witnessed  the  final  triumph  over  the  preju- 
dice against  mountain  scenery,  and,  in  Leslie  Stephen's 
happy  phrase,  Switzerland  became  "the  playground  of 
Europe."  ^ 

In  18 18,  the  serious  lack  of  an  English  guide-book  to 
the  country  was  supplied  by  Daniel  Wall's  English  ver- 



sion  of  Ebel's  pioneer  work.'under  the  title,  "The  Travel- 
ler's Guide  through  Switzerland ";  i  and  since  that  day 
the   stream  of  English  tourists  has  been  unfailing. 

But  although  Englishmen,  Hke  other  tourists,  avoided 
the   mountains,   they   were    often    seen   in    Swiss    cities, 
particularly    during   the   second   half   of    the   eighteenth 
century.     Bern  was  noted  for  its  social  life  and  its  cor- 
diality to  strangers,  and  Geneva  enjoyed  an  exceptional 
reputation  as  a  safe  place  to  send  a  young  man  with  his 
tutor;  while  Basel,  Zurich,  Lucerne,  Lausanne,  each  had 
attractions  sufficient  to  hold  the  passing  tourist  for  a  more 
or  less  protracted  stay.^    The  Hfe  in  these  cities  was  com- 
mended as  simple  and  wholesome.     One  had  excellent 
opportunities  for  learning  French  by  being  received  as 
a  member  of  a  cultured  family,  and  could  easily  share  in 
the  pleasures  of  a  society  that  lacked  the  sophistication 
and  dangerous  allurements  of  the  fashionable  assemblies 
of  France  and  Italy.     In  1785,  social  gatherings  at  Bern, 
we  are  told,  "begin  about  four  or  five  in  the  afternoon 
and  continue  till  eight,  when  the  parties  usually  retire 
to  their  respective   houses."  ^     Zurich  suffered   no   wild 
extravagance.    As  late  as  1776,  we  read:    "Among  their 
sumptuary  laws,  the  use  of  a  carriage  in  the  town  is  pro- 
hibited to  all  sorts  of  persons  except  strangers;  and  it 
is  almost  inconceivable  that,  in  a  place  so  commercial 
and  wealthy,  luxury  should  so  Httle  prevail."  *    At  Basel 
one  could,  indeed,  keep  a  coach,  but   "no  citizen  or  in- 
habitant" was  "allowed  to  have  a  servant  behind  his  car- 
riage." 5    Similar  regulations  of  one's  dress  and  deportment 
prevailed  in  many  other  parts  of  Switzerland.     Games  of 
chance  in  particular  were  under  the  ban  of  the  law. 

Along  with  Bern,  Geneva  won  the  special  favor  of 
English  tourists,^  and  impressed  them  with  its  popula- 
tion of  twenty-four  thousand  inhabitants,— the  largest 
in  Switzerland.  Tourists  were  advised  that  they  could 
"not  choose  a  more  agreeable  place  of  repose,  after  the 
various  toils  of  a  fatiguing  voyage";  ^  and  this  reputation 
continued    throughout    the    eighteenth    century.      "The 



goodness  of  the  air,  the  mildness  of  the  government,  and 
the  plenty  of  all  things,  together  with  the  conversation 
of  the  inhabitants,  who  are  sprightly  and  polite,  make 
this  a  most  agreeable  city  to  live  in;  insomuch  that  it 
is  stiled  the  court  of  the  Alps."  '  The  inhabitants  honored 
Sunday  "  with  the  most  respectful  decorum  during  the 
hours  of  divine  service;  but  as  soon  as  that"  was  "over, 
all  the  usual  amusements"  commenced. ^  People  of 
wealth  and  leisure  were  fond  of  going  for  social  gather- 
ings a  little  distance  outside  the  city.  The  summons 
to  return  to  their  homes  before  it  should  be  too  late  to 
pass  through  the  gates  strikingly  indicates  the  primi- 
tive conditions  still  surviving  late  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. "They  generally  continue  these  circles  till  the 
dusk  of  the  evening  and  the  sound  of  the  drum  from 
the  ramparts  call  them  to  the  town;  and  at  that  time  the 
gates  are  shut,  after  which  no  person  can  enter  or  go  out, 
the  officer  of  the  guard  not  having  the  power  to  open 
them  without  an  order  from  the  Syndics,  which  is  not  to 
be  obtained  but  on  some  great  emergency."  ^ 

Without  question  all  these  cities  proved  interesting  to 
Englishmen.  In  general,  however,  as  we  have  observed, 
the  eighteenth-century  tourist  was  bent  upon  visiting 
other  countries  than  Switzerland.  The  Swiss  cities  were 
not  indispensable  to  the  success  of  his  tour,  and  he  did 
not  make  his  long  journey  for  the  sake  of  seeing  moun- 
tains, though  in  going  through  the  great  passes  on  his  way 
to  Italy  he  could  not  avoid  seeing  some  notable  scenery. 
In  the  lowlands  the  roads  were  in  many  cases  excellent; 
in  the  higher  regions  of  the  Alps  they  left  much  to  be 
desired.  Only  the  Col  di  Tenda  (1778),  the  Brenner 
(1772),  and  the  Arlberg  (1786)  were  passable  for  carriages.* 
But  such  as  they  were,  the  routes  over  the  Saint-Gott- 
hard,  the  Great  Saint-Bernard,  the  Simplon,|Mont  Gcnevre, 
Mont  Cenis,  and  other  passes  were  much  used,  though 
the  crossing  of  the  mountains  caused  most  travelers 
some  perturbation. 

To  traverse  these  roads,  says  Keysler,  "There  is  scarce 



any  other  way  .  .  .  than  in  post-chaises  which  will 
hold  two  persons,  with  a  covering  over  head,  and  room  for 
two  trunks  behind :  they  have  but  two  wheels,  and  one  of 
the  two  horses  runs  within  the  shafts,  and  bears  the 
stress  of  the  burden.  .  .  .  The  rugged  rocks  and  narrow 
roads,  and  the  short  turnings  along  the  mountains,  render 
it  extremely  difficult  for  four-wheeled  carriages  to  travel 
through  Savoy."  ^  Where  the  road  was  impassable  for 
wheeled  vehicles,  they  were  taken  to  pieces  and  carried 
over  on  mulcback.  The  novel  experience  made  a  deep 
impression  upon  travelers.  Two  or  three  typical  descrip- 
tions will  enable  us  to  get  the  point  of  view  of  the  earlier 
tourists  far  better  than  any  comment  of  our  own.  The 
first  is  Evelyn's  account  of  his  passage  of  the  Simplon 
in  1646,  going  over  from  Italy. 

"The  next  morning,  we  mounted  again  through  strange, 
horrid,  and  fearful  crags  and  tracts,  abounding  in  pine- 
trees,  and  only  inhabited  by  bears,  wolves,  and  wild 
goats;  nor  coiild  we  anywhere  see  above  a  pistol-shot 
before  us,  the  horizon  being  terminated  with  rocks  and 
mountains,  whose  tops,  covered  with  snow,  seemed  to 
touch  the  skies,  and  in  many  places  pierced  the  clouds. 
Some  of  these  vast  mountains  were  but  one  entire  stone, 
betwixt  whose  clefts  now  and  then  precipitated  great 
cataracts  of  melted  snow,  and  other  waters,  which  made 
a  terrible  roaring,  echoing  from  the  rocks  and  cavities; 
and  these  waters  in  some  places  breaking  in  the  fall, 
wet  us  as  if  we  had  passed  through  a  mist,  so  that  we 
could  neither  see  nor  hear  one  another,  but  trusting 
to  our  honest  mules,  we  jogged  on  our  way.  The  narrow 
bridges,  in  some  places  made  only  by  felling  huge  fir-trees, 
and  laying  them  athwart  from  mountain  to  mountain, 
over  cataracts  of  stupendous  depth,  are  very  dangerous, 
and  so  are  the  passages  and  edges  made  by  cutting  away 
the  main  rock;  others  in  steps;  and  in  some  places  we 
pass  between  mountains  that  have  been  broken  and  fallen 
on  one  another;  which  is  very  terrible,  and  one  had  need 
of  a  sure  foot  and  steady  head  to  climb  some  of  these  preci- 



pices,  besides  that  they  are  harbours  for  bears  and  wolves, 
who  have  sometimes  assaulted  travellers.  In  these  straits, 
we  frequently  alighted,  now  freezing  in  the  snow,  and  anon 
frying  by  the  reverberation  of  the  sun  against  the  cliffs 
as  we  descend  lower,  when  we  meet  now  and  then  a  few 
miserable  cottages  so  built  upon  the  declining  of  the  rocks, 
as  one  would  expect  their  sliding  down."  ^ 

Smollett  went  over  the  Col  di  Tenda  in  March,  1765; 
and  his  experience,  as  will  be  seen,  does  not  materially 
differ  from  that  of  travelers  crossing  Mont  Cenis  and  other 
high  mountains.  He  started  at  three  in  the  morning  and  at 
four  began  the  ascent.  It  was,  he  says,  "by  far  the  highest 
mountain  in  the  whole  journey:  it  was  now  quite  covered 
with  snow,  which  at  the  top  of  it  was  near  twenty  feet  thick. 
Half  way  up,  there  are  quarters  for  a  detachment  of  sol- 
diers, posted  here  to  prevent  smuggling,  and  an  inn  called 
La  Ca,  which  in  the  language  of  the  country  signifies  the 
house.  At  this  place,  we  hired  six  men  to  assist  us  in  ascend- 
ing the  mountain,  each  of  them  provided  with  a  kind  of 
hough  to  break  the  ice,  and  make  a  sort  of  steps  for  the 
miiles.  When  we  were  near  the  top,  however,  we  were 
obliged  to  alight,  and  climb  the  mountain  supported  each 
by  two  of  those  men,  called  coiilants,  who  walk  upon  the 
snow  with  great  firmness  and  security.  We  were  followed 
by  the  mules,  and  though  they  are  very  sure-footed  animals, 
and  were  frost-shod  for  the  occasion,  they  stumbled  and 
fell  very  often ;  the  ice  being  so  hard  that  the  sharp-headed 
nails  in  their  shoes  could  not  penetrate."  ^  On  the  other 
side  the  travelers  slid  down  on  a  kind  of  sledge.  "At  Coni 
we  found  the  countess  C —  from  Nice,  who  had  made  the 
same  journey  in  a  chair,  carried  by  porters.  This  is  no 
other  than  a  common  elbow-chair  of  wood,  with  a  straw 
bottom,  covered  above  with  a  waxed  cloth,  to  protect  the 
traveller  from  the  rain  or  snow,  and  provided  with  a  foot- 
board upon  which  the  feet  rest.  It  is  carried  like  a  sedan- 
chair;  and  for  this  purpose  six  or  eight  porters  are  employed 
at  the  rate  of  three  or  four  livres  a  head  per  day,  according 
to  the  season,  allowing  three  days  for  their  return.     Of 



these  six  men,  two  are  between  the  poles  carrying  like  com- 
mon chairmen,  and  each  of  these  supported  by  the  other 
two,  one  at  each  hand;  but  as  those  in  the  middle  sustain 
the  greatest  burthen,  they  are  relieved  by  the  others  in  a 
regular  rotation.  In  descending  the  mountain,  they  carry 
the  poles  on  their  shoulders,  and,  in  that  case,  four  men  are 
employed,  one  at  each  end."  ^ 

The  ordinary  pass  for  travelers  coming  through  France 
was  that  leading  over  Mont  Cenis  and  down  to  Turin ;  ^ 
and  hence  this  mountain  appears  frequently  in  the  ac- 
counts of  tourists.  Gray  crossed  it  with  Horace  Walpole 
in  the  autumn  of  1739,  taking  six  days  for  the  passage. 
They  were,  as  Gray  says,  "as  well  armed  as  possible 
against  the  cold  with  muffs,  hoods,  and  masks  of  beaver, 
fur  boots,  and  bear  skins";  ^  and  such  was  the  common 
equipment  of  well-to-do  tourists  for  a  passage  of  the  high 

One  of  the  most  detailed  and  interesting  accounts  of  the 
crossing  of  Mont  Cenis  is  Sharp's,  though  there  are  so  many 
that  selection  is  difficult:  ^  "The  passage  into  Italy  is  com- 
posed of  a  very  steep  ascent,  almost  three  miles  high;  then 
of  a  plain,  nearly  flat,  about  five  or  six  miles  long;  and, 
lastly,  of  a  descent,  about  six  miles  in  length.  .  .  .  Both 
going  and  returning,  when  you  arrive  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
your  coach,  or  chaise,  is  taken  to  pieces  and  carried  upon 
mules  to  the  other  side,  and  you  yourself  are  transported  by 
two  men,  on  a  common  straw  chair,^  without  any  feet  to  it, 
fixed  upon  two  poles,  like  a  sedan  chair,  with  a  swinging- 
foot-board  to  prop  up  your  feet;  but,  though  it  be  the  work 
of  two  men  only  to  carry  you,  six,  and  sometimes  eight, 
attend,  in  order  to  relieve  one  another.  The  whole  way 
that  you  ride  in  this  manner  being  fourteen  or  fifteen  miles, 
when  the  person  carried  is  corpulent,  it  is  necessary  to 
employ  ten  porters."  ' 

The  cool-headed  Arthur  Young  supplements  some  of 
this  detail:  "To  those  who,  from  reading  are  full  of  expec- 
tation of  something  very  sublime,  it  is  almost  as  great  a  de- 
lusion as  to  be  met  with  in  the  regions  of  romance :  if  trav- 



ellers  are  to  be  believed,  the  descent  rammassant  on  the 
snow,  is  made  with  the  velocity  of  a  flash  of  lightning;  I 
was  not  fortunate  enough  to  meet  with  any  thing  so  wonder- 
ful. At  the  grand  croix  we  seated  ourselves  in  machines 
of  four  sticks,  dignified  with  the  name  of  traineau;  a  mule 
draws  it,  and  a  conductor,  who  walks  between  the  machine 
and  the  animal,  serves  chiefly  to  kick  the  snow  into  the  face 
of  the  rider.  When  arrived  at  the  precipice,  which  leads 
down  to  Lanebourg  [Lans-le-bourg],  the  mule  is  dismissed, 
and  the  rammassang  [sic]  begins.  The  weight  of  two  persons, 
the  guide  seating  himself  in  the  front,  and  directing  it  with 
his  heels  in  the  snow,  is  sufficient  to  give  it  motion.  For 
most  of  the  way  he  is  content  to  follow  very  humbly  the 
path  of  the  mules,  but  now  and  then  crosses  to  escape  a 
double,  and  in  such  spots  the  motion  is  rapid  enough,  for  a 
few  seconds,  to  be  agreeable ;  they  might  very  easily  shorten 
the  line  one  half,  and  by  that  means  gratify  the  English 
U^ith  the  velocity  they  admire  so  much."  ^ 

Of  the  danger  involved  in  this  passage  Baretti  also  makes 
light:  "And  a  propos  of  mount  Cenis,  let  no  one  be  fright- 
ened by  the  dismal  accounts,  so  frequent  in  the  books  of 
travel-writers,  of  the  bad  road  over  dangerous  precipices 
through  Savoy  or  the  Apennines.  These  dangerous  preci- 
pices exist  no  where,  but  in  the  imagination  of  the  timorous; 
for  wherever  there  is  any  dubious  pass,  the  Italian  postilions 
have  common  sense  enough  not  to  venture  their  necks  along 
with  those  of  their  passengers,  but  they  desire  them  to 
alight  and  assist  in  conquering,  the  difficulty,  if  there  are 
no  people  of  the  country  at  hand."  ^ 

The  passage  of  the  Alps  was  never  easy,  and,  especially 
in  winter,  was  doubtless  now  and  then  sufficiently  terrify- 
ing to  a  novice  who  was  expecting  to  be  frightened,^  but 
the  imagination  of  the  eighteenth  century  magnified  the 
difficulty  and  the  danger  until  nearly  every  traveler  who 
had  accomplished  the  feat  fancied  himself  more  or  less  of  a 
hero  —  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  crossing  was  an  every- 
day affair  for  the  hardy  Swiss  porters. 

But  although  the  danger  was  exaggerated  by  inexperi- 



enced  tourists  with  weak  nerves,  the  difficulty  need  not  be 
unduly  minimized.  The  paths  were  narrow  and  steep,  cov- 
ered with  ice  and  snow  in  winter,  and  occasionally  exposed 
to  avalanches.  The  ordinary  traveler  may  be  pardoned  for 
showing  some  apprehension  when  an  unimaginative  maker 
of  guide-books  like  Nugent  details  for  the  prospective 
tourist  the  dangers  of  "the  frightfiil  mountain  called  S. 
Godard.  This  mountain  is  two  miles  high,  and  very  dan- 
gerous in  winter,  because  of  the  great  heaps  of  snow  and 
stones,  which  the  violence  of  the  winds  rolls  down  the 
precipices.  But  the  most  hazardous  part  is  the  bridge  on 
the  Russ,  called  the  bridge  of  hell,  from  the  horrid  noise 
the  water  makes  as  it  tumbles  from  the  rocks,  and  from  the 
slipperiness  of  the  bridge,  which  renders  it  difficult  even 
to  foot  passengers,  who  are  obliged  to  creep  on  all-fours, 
lest  the  fury  of  the  winds  should  drive  them  down  the 
rocks."  1 

If  in  our  day  the  Alps  had  to  be  traversed  on  the  old 
narrow  roads  by  the  old  means  of  conveyance,  they  would 
even  yet  be  dreaded.  In  Smollett's  opinion,  "Certainly 
no  person  who  travels  to  Italy  from  England,  Holland, 
France,  or  Spain,  would  make  a  troublesome  circuit  to  pass 
the  Alps  by  the  way  of  Savoy  and  Piedmont,  if  he  could 
have  the  convenience  of  going  past  by  the  way  of  Aix, 
Antibes,  and  Nice,  along  the  side  of  the  Mediterranean, 
and  through  the  Riviera  of  Genoa,  which  from  the  sea 
affords  the  most  agreeable  and  amazing  prospect  I  ever 
beheld." « 

After  the  Alps,  the  Apennines  were  no  great  obstacle  to 
tourists,  though  the  slow  toiling  up  the  rough,  steep  roads 
was  a  tiresome  experience.  Every  traveler  from  Bologna 
to  Florence  had  to  traverse  this  mountain  barrier,  which 
required  a  three  days*  journey.^  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Mon- 
tagu ^  called  it  " a  dreadful  passage."  Yet  on  the  whole  the 
Apennines  were  suited  to  eighteenth-century  taste  much 
better  than  the  Alps,  and,  in  the  opinion  of  the  Earl  of 
Carlisle,  "though  not  so  wonderful  .  .  .  much  more 
beautiful,  being  covered  with  a  great  quantity  of  timber, 



and  the  cottages  in  the  most  romantic  situations  in  a  very 
deHghtful  manner."  * 

The  foregoing  brief  survey  by  no  means  includes  all  that 
might  be  said  on  the  mountain  experiences  of  eighteenth- 
century  tourists;  but  the  other  mountain  districts  in  the 
regions  traversed  on  the  grand  tour  call  for  no  special  com- 
ment, since  they  were  in  general  merely  difficult  rather 
than  dangerous. 




In  the  eighteenth  century  the  shortest  tour  abroad  was 
a  notable  experience,  and  a  journey  to  Italy  an  achievement 
to  be  boasted  of  for  the  remainder  of  one's  life.  Nothing, 
indeed,  is  more  striking  than  the  contrast  between  the 
weakness  and  poverty  of  the  country  as  a  whole  and  the 
fascination  that  it  exerted  upon  all  Europe.  The  exquisite 
landscapes,  the  music,  the  art,  the  architecture,  the  ruins 
surviving  from  the  great  past,  gave  Italy  a  unique  place. 
Pilgrims  and  scholars  and  pleasure-seekers  had  made  their 
way  there  for  centuries.^  The  very  unlikeness  of  Italy  to 
England  in  almost  every  particular  was  an  added  attrac- 
tion: and  in  the  eighteenth  century  Englishmen  flocked 
there  in  greater  numbers  than  ever  before,  for  the  sojourn 
in  Italy  was  "considered  as  the  finishing  part  of  a  polite 
education."  ^ 

But  the  interest  of  the  ordinary  tourist  was  mainly  that 
of  curiosity.  The  political  power  of  Italy  was  shattered 
into  fragments  and  the  country  had  ceased  to  be  the  intel- 
lectual leader  of  Europe,  as  it  had  been  in  the  fifteenth  and 
early  sixteenth  centuries.  Italy  now  drew  attention  more 
as  the  picturesque  survivor  of  a  splendid  past  than  as  an 
active  participant  in  anything  demanding  initiative  and 
strenuous  endeavor.  To  the  student  making  the  grand  tour 
Italy  was  the  most  interesting  museum  in  the  world,  and 
though  a  land  from  which  the  efficient  life  had  largely 
departed,  it  remained  still  notable  because  of  the  part  it 
had  played  in  history. 

To  us  of  to-day  eighteenth-century  Italy  seems  in  many 
particulars  like  something  fantastical  and  unreal,  so  differ- 



ent  is  it  from  the  Italy  we  know,  penetrated  as  it  now  is 
in  remote  recesses  by  the  railway,  the  motor-car,  or  the 
bicycle.  Within  the  past  forty  years,  through  the  wonder- 
ful transformations  wrought  by  electricity  and  modern 
machinery,  Italy  has  made  infinitely  more  progress  than 
in  the  whole  course  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  cen- 
turies. But  even  yet,  in  out-of-the-way  districts,  the 
traveler  finds  many  of  the  conditions  of  a  century  or  two 
ago.  In  a  hundred  towns  of  Italy  there  are  squares  and 
streets  substantially  unchanged  since  the  eighteenth- 
century  tourist  looked  upon  them.  And  as  for  pictures  and 
statues,  a  good  proportion  of  those  that  are  to-day  most 
famous  are  enumerated  in  the  guide-books  of  Misson  and 
Nugent  and  De  La  Lande.  But  one  now  misses  the  brightly 
colored  costumes  of  the  olden  time,  the  powdered  wigs,  the 
high  headdresses  of  fine  ladies,  the  gaudy  gilded  chariots, 
the  sedan  chairs.  For  us  the  eighteenth  century  can  never 
live  again. 

In  the  eighteenth  century  degeneracy  was  writ  large 
over  most  of  the  country  and  was  a  subject  of  comment  in 
every  tourist's  account  of  his  travels.  One  wearies  a  little 
of  the  insistence  of  travelers  in  dwelling  on  this  theme,  but 
the  fact  was  so  forced  upon  their  attention  at  every  turn 
that  they  could  not  escape  it.  The  decline  of  Italy  from  the 
proud  position  it  had  held  in  the  fifteenth  and  early  sixteenth 
centuries  had  long  been  in  progress.  Even  at  the  end  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  "Italy  had  retrograded,  crushed  by 
foreign  oppression.  .  .  .  Excepting  Venice,  which  was 
even  then  in  its  decline,  the  other  cities  of  Italy  retained 
scarce  a  shadow  of  their  former  power.  Their  earlier 
commercial  supremacy  was  a  thing  of  the  past."  ^  Says 
a  writer  in  1743:  "The  Italians  are  so  intirely  taken  up 
with  what  the  People  and  Country  were  seventeen  hun- 
dred Years  ago,  that  they  neglect  the  present  Condition  of 
both.  Their  Cities  are  now  thin  of  Inhabitants,  their  soil 
barren  and  uncultivated,  and  themselves  a  pusillanimous, 
enervate,  lazy  people."  ^ 

Not  unnaturally,  there  grew  up,  in  process  of  time,  a 



widespread  and  exaggerated  conception  of  Italy  as  a  land  of 
faded  splendor  with  its  glory  all  in  the  past,  and  with  a 
present  of  poverty  and  dirt  and  lawlessness,  while  every- 
where the  bandit  followed  his  desperate  trade.  This  is  the 
conception  which  appears  in  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  romances  and 
which  is  based  wholly  upon  tales  picked  up  from  travelers 
and  her  reading  of  books  of  travel.  Justified  as  this  view 
in  some  degree  was,  it  took  account  of  none  but  surface 

In  striking  contrast  with  this  common  estimate  of  Italy  as 
a  land  hopelessly  sunken  in  poverty  and  weakness  is  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  travelers  kindle  at  the  thought  of 
the  delights  to  be  found  there.  Eighteenth-century  tour- 
ists of  the  most  varied  type  are  at  one  in  their  praise  of  this 
garden  of  Europe.  The  veteran  traveler  Misson,  summing 
up  a  wide  experience,  says:  "I  have  observed  that  those 
who  speak  of  Italy  are  usually  full  of  prejudices  in  favor 
of  that  fine  country.  Most  young  travellers  being  persuaded 
that  they  shall  find  there  an  infinite  number  of  surprising 
rarities,  go  thither  with  a  resolution  to  admire  every  thing 
they  meet."  ^ 

In  Addison's  preface  to  his  "Remarks  on  Italy,"  he  ob- 
serves: "There  is  certainly  no  place  in  the  world  where  a 
man  may  travel  with  greater  pleasure  and  advantage  than 
in  Italy.  One  finds  something  more  particular  in  the  face 
of  the  country,  and  more  astonishing  in  the  works  of  nature, 
than  can  be  met  with  in  any  other  part  of  Europe." 

Nugent  echoes  Addison's  opinion  in  almost  the  same 
words,  and  says  that  "Italy,  for  fine  cities,  surpasses  all  the 
rest  of  Europe."  ^  Northall,  in  the  preface  to  his  "Travels 
through  Italy,"  remarks  upon  the  popularity  of  the  Italian 
tour:  "What  Egypt  was  to  the  ancients,  Italy  is  to  the 
moderns.  .  .  .  Italy,  thus  enriched  by  nature  and  adorned 
by  art,  is  therefore  justly  esteemed  the  most  agreeable  and 
most  useful  part  of  Europe  to  a  lover  of  antiquity,  and  the 
polite  arts  and  sciences ;  nor  is  it  strange  that  it  should  bs 
much  frequented  by  foreigners  of  taste  in  this  learned  and 
refined  age."^    And  Eustace,  in  the  same  tone  of  enthu- 



siasm,  says:  "No  country  furnishes  a  greater  number  of 
ideas,  or  inspires  so  many  generous  and  exalting  sentiments. 
To  have  visited  it  at  any  period,  may  be  ranked  among  the 
minor  blessings  of  life,  and  is  one  of  the  means  of  mental 
improvement."  ^ 

English  moralists  now  and  then  remarked  with  scorn 
upon  the  low  moral  tone  of  Italy,  but  they  had  little  influ- 
ence in  diverting  the  stream  of  travel  into  other  channels. 

As  a  rule  the  tourist  wasted  little  time  upon  the  coun- 
try districts,  which  in  general  were  thinly  inhabited  and 
destitute  of  the  comforts  of  life.  Italy  was  in  a  peculiar  sense 
a  land  of  cities.  The  Roman  type  of  civilization  magnified 
the  importance  of  the  city  at  the  expense  of  the  country; 
and  the  conditions  of  life  in  the  Middle  Ages  had  con- 
tinued many  ancient  traditions,  which,  even  in  the  eight- 
eenth century,  were  by  no  means  extinct.  "In  England 
and  France,"  says  Nugent,  "  'tis  customary  for  the  nobility 
and  gentry  to  spend  part  of  their  time  in  the  country;  but 
'tis  not  so  in  Italy,  for  here  most  people  of  distinction  live 
in  the  cities,  out  of  which  there  are  very  few  castles  or 
noblemen's  seats  to  be  seen,  especially  in  comparison  to 
what  we  observe  in  France  and  England."  ^ 

Of  the  popularity  of  various  Italian  cities  we  have  a  long 
succession  of  testimonials  from  English  tourists.  The 
special  favorites  were  Turin,  Milan,  Venice,  Bologna, 
Florence,  Rome,  and  Naples.  But  there  were  also  a  good 
number  of  others  that  in  their  measure  were  notably 
popular.  All  in  all,  apart  from  the  marked  eighteenth-cen- 
tury neglect  of  mountain  regions  and  the  patronizing  and 
often  contemptvious  attitude  toward  places  the  main  inter- 
est of  which  was  medieval,  there  was  not  much  in  the 
eighteenth-century  round  that  tourists  in  our  day  have 
greatly  modified,  even  though  they  travel  by  rail  rather 
than  by  the  old-fashioned  carriage.  And  if  we  were  to 
make  a  list  of  the  fifty  places  in  Italy  now  most  deserving 
attention,  we  should  find  a  good  proportion  of  them  in  the 
ordinary  routes  of  the  eighteenth-century  tourist. 




A  glance  at  the  map  of  Italy  and  at  the  principal  thor- 
oughfares traversing  the  peninsula  is  sufficient  to  show 
that,  as  in  France,  a  few  chief  cities  largely  determined 
the  route  of  the  tourist.  On  the  other  hand,  some  cities, 
though  almost  inevitably  included  in  the  itinerary,  were 
regarded  merely  as  necessary  halting-places  on  the  way. 
Still  others,  interesting  in  themselves,  though  not  easily 
accessible,  were  left  in  their  lonely  isolation  and  rarely 
if  ever  visited.  To  see  any  town  that  involved  even  a 
slight  detour  was,  for  one  who  had  a  fixed  agreement 
with  a  vetturino,  commonly  impracticable,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  unavoidable  hardships  to  be  encountered  in  out- 
of-the-way  places.  Of  some  of  the  cities  most  commonly 
visited  we  must  take  account,  though  at  best  we  can 
find  space  for  but  a  few.  ' 

But  before  giving  attention  to  the  cities  we  must  con- 
sider for  a  moment  the  routes  by  which  they  were  com- 
monly reached.  And  even  before  outlining  the  routes 
we  must  take  account  of  the  disposition  of  the  tourist 
himself.  There  were  a  few  beaten  tracks  which  tourists 
followed  with  remarkable  fidelity.  "No  English  traveller 
that  ever  I  heard,"  says  Baretti,  "ever  went  a  step  out 
of  those  roads,  which  from  the  foot  of  the  Alps  lead  straight 
to  our  most  famed  cities.  None  of  them  ever  will  deign 
to  visit  those  places  whose  names  are  not  in  every  body's 
mouth.  They  travel  to  see  things,  not  men.  Indeed 
they  cannot  help  crossing  both  the  Alps  and  the  Apen- 
nines in  two  or  three  parts;  but  always  do  it  in  such 
haste,  that  their  inhabitants  are  as  much  known  to 
them  as  those  of  the  Arimaspian  cliffs.  Our  Mountain- 
eers, secluded  in  a  manner  from  the  rest  of  the  world, 
never  awake  their  curiosity."  He  cites  a  small  region 
north  of  Vicenza,  thought  by  some  to  be  peopled  by 
those  Cimbri  whom  Marius  defeated.  "Yet  they  re- 
main perfectly  unexplored  by  those  very  Britons  who 
make  it  a  point  to  spend  a  part  of  their  income  and 



consecrate  a  part  of  their  life  to  the  visitation  of  dis- 
tant regions  and  to  the  knowledge  of  foreign  customs 
and  manners.  Their  poor  curiosity  will  hardly  extend 
farther  than  pictures  and  statues,  or  carnival  festivities 
and  holy-week  ceremonies;  nor  could  any  of  them  be 
forced  half  a  mile  out  of  the  most  beaten  track  by  my 
frequent  expostulations.  What  a  pity  that  so  many  young 
gentlemen  of  good  parts,  and  never  cramped  for  want 
of  money,  should  all  be  so  perverse  on  this  particular."  ^ 

One  of  Walpole's  lively  letters  to  West  in  1739  expresses 
with  exactness  the  spirit  of  the  ordinary  English  tourist 
in  Italy:  "Dear  West,  I  protest  against  having  seen 
anything  but  what  all  the  world  has  seen;  nay,  I  have 
not  seen  half  that,  not  some  of  the  most  common  things; 
not  so  much  as  a  miracle.  Well,  but  you  don't  expect 
it,  do  you?  Except  pictures  and  statues,  we  are  not 
very  fond  of  sights;  don't  go  a  staring  after  crooked  towers 
and  conundrum  staircases."  ^ 

Englishmen  were,  indeed,  commonly  credited  with 
marked  individuality  and  independence  of  character. 
But  on  their  travels  they  were,  as  a  rule,  less  bent  upon 
adding  to  the  general  stock  of  knowledge  than  upon 
checking  off  in  a  catalogue  the  things  that  other  tourists 
had  seen.  As  long  as  a  region  was  not  in  the  ordinary 
itinerary,  they  cheerfully  neglected  it,  but  when  it  had  been 
enough  talked  about  to  be  put  in  the  list  of  things  that 
must  be  seen,  they  flocked  thither  and  made  the  fortune 
of  the  district.  As  Hazlitt  remarks  with  some  annoy- 
ance: "The  English  abroad  turn  out  of  their  way  to  see 
every  pettifogging,  huckstering  object  that  they  could 
see  better  at  home."  ^ 

But  there  were  large  tracts  of  the  country  rarely  if  ever 
visited  by  the  tourist  and  hardly  accessible  even  if  he 
had  the  desire  to  see  them.  Nearly  half  of  Italy  was 
thus  neglected.  The  whole  of  the  great  region  below  a 
line  drawn  from  coast  to  coast  through  Rome  and  Loretto 
was  practically  unknown,  with  the  exception  of  the  stretch 
between  Rome  and  Naples  and  a  circle  of  perhaps  fifty 



miles  about  Naples.  With  this  entire  region  Misson 
troubles  himself  very  little;  "that  country,"  he  says,  in 
his  famous  "New  Voyage  to  Italy,"'  "being  almost  im- 
practicable and  very  little  frequented,  because  of  the 
bad  inns,  in  which  you  find  nothing  at  all  to  eat;  those 
people  being  accustomed  to  provide  the  strangers  with 
fire  and  utensils  only;  an  experience  that  I  have  made 
at  Salerne."  Thus  neglected,  much  of  the  inland  region 
south  and  east  of  Naples  was  almost  as  unknown  as  South 
America.  Indeed,  to  this  day  the  greater  part  of  Italy 
that  Misson  left  out  of  account  is  little  frequented  by  tour- 
ists. They  may  run  down  by  rail  to  Brindisi  on  their 
way  to  the  East,  or  to  Reggio  on  their  way  to  Sicily,  but 
they  usually  pass  through  as  one  might  through  a  desert. 

There  is  no  lovelier  part  of  Europe  than  Sicily,  yet  in 
the  eighteenth  century  only  an  occasional  tourist  found 
his  way  thither.  Those  who  went  had  to  face  much  dis- 
comfort as  soon  as  they  left  the  cities  on  the  coast  and 
attempted  to  go  across  country.  The  roads  were  mere 
trails,  the  inns  extremely  primitive  or  altogether  lacking, 
and  the  danger  from  brigands  by  no  means  imaginary. 
Breval  says  in  1723:  "Sicily  is  a  ground  very  few  Eng- 
lishmen have  trod  before  me  as  observers."  ^  Nor  did  many 
English  hasten  to  tread  it  after  him.  Indeed,  if  we  count 
up  the  English  travelers  of  any  note  who  went  about  the 
island  in  the  eighteenth  century,  we  enumerate  a  very 
small  company.^ 

We  need  not,  therefore,  pause  to  comment  upon  Pal- 
ermo, with  its  exquisite  survivals  of  the  medieval  period, 
notably  that  architectural  gem,  the  Capella  Palatina; 
upon  Monreale,  with  its  vast  expanse  of  medieval  mosaics ; 
upon  Segesta,  with  its  marvelously  preserved  Greek 
temple;  upon  Selinunte,  with  its  stupendous  temple  ruins; 
upon  Girgenti,  with  its  wonderful  group  of  ancient  temples; 
upon  Syracuse,  with  its  catacombs,  its  vast,  rock-hewn 
ancient  citadel,  its  Greek  theatre,  its  historic  quarries, 
and  its  charming  excursions;  upon  Taormina,  perched 
on  its  rocky  nest  above  the  blue  straits  and  facing  the 



towering  mass  of  snow-covered  ^tna.  Surely,  nothing 
but  conditions  known  to  be  almost  unendurable  could 
have  kept  tourists  away  from  such  a  natural  paradise 
as  Sicily. 

But  there  were  other  interesting  regions  of  Italy,  far 
more  accessible,  that  shared  the  same  neglect,^  and  which 
were  viewed,  if  at  all,  with  entire  lack  of  intelligent  ap- 
preciation. Baretti  is  again  a  witness:  "I  have  seldom 
or  never  met  in  the  books  of  English  travellers  with  any 
account,  even  short  and  imperfect,  of  those  parts  of  north- 
ern and  western  Italy,  which  are,  one  may  say,  but  a 
stone's  throw  from  the  great  road  of  Rome.  These  gentle- 
men will  tell  you  of  Turin,  Milan,  Brescia,  Venice,  and 
some  other  towns  on  that  side,  that  they  are  very  well 
built  towns,  very  populous,  and  very  rich;  but  they  never 
tell  by  what  means  they  are,  and  have  been,  maintained 
for  so  long  a  space  of  time  in  the  state  they  describe  them."  ^ 

To  the  modem  tourist  there  are  few  more  attractive 
hill  towns  than  Perugia.  In  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century  it  counted  about  sixteen  thousand  inhabitants, 
not  all,  it  must  be  confessed,  of  the  best  reputation.^ 
Travelers  taking  the  middle  route  to  Rome  often  found 
it  convenient  to  spend  a  night  there;  and  in  their  ac- 
counts they  enumerate  some  of  the  sights,  but  they  dis- 
play no  understanding  of  the  peculiar  charm  of  the  place. 
Smollett's  account  is  amusingly  vague.  Whether,  in- 
deed, he  troubled  himself  to  see  what  he  reports  is  not 
entirely  clear.  But  at  all  events,  to  the  beauty  of  the 
situation  of  this  old  Etruscan  city,  with  its  walls  and 
gates,  and  the  magnificent  views  in  every  direction, 
he  seems  bHnd:  "There  being  no  relays  at  the  post,  we 
were  obliged  to  stay  the  whole  day  and  night  at  Perugia, 
which  is  a  considerable  city,  built  upon  the  acclivity  of  a 
hill,  adorned  with  some  elegant  fountains,  and  several 
handsome  churches,  containing  some  valuable  pictures 
by  Guido,  Raphael,  and  his  master  Pietro  Perugino, 
who  was  a  native  of  this  place."  ^ 

Knowing  as  we  do  the  usual  conditions  of  travel  in 



Italy,  even  on  the  beaten  thoroughfares,  and  the  usual 
indifference  of  tourists  to  places  outside  the  conven- 
tional round,  we  can  easily  see  why  Nugent  puts  a  num- 
ber of  extremely  interesting  towns  such  as  Volterra, 
Arezzo,  Chiusi,  Montepulciano,  Cortona,  Orvieto,  into 
a  list  of  "by-places,"  to  be  seen,  if  convenient,  in  going 
by  way  of  Bologna  and  Florence  to  Rome.^  A  similar 
list  of  places  that  he  names  on  the  route  from  Venice  to 
Rome  by  way  of  Ancona  and  Loretto  includes  San  Marino, 
visited  from  Rimini;  Urbino,  visited  from  Pesaro;  Assisi,' 
Perugia,    Gubbio,    Fabriano.^ 

We  need  hardly  remark  that  tourists  in  Italy  in  the 
period  we  are  considering  commonly  avoided  the  moun- 
tains and  made  comparatively  little  of  the  lakes,  though 
the  Borromean  Islands,  with  their  artificial  gardens, 
frequently  drew  travelers  to  Lake  Maggiore.  The  ex- 
quisite Monte  di  Brianza,  terminating  in  the  triangle 
between  the  two  arms  of  Lake  Como,  was,  as  Baretti  ob- 
served, perhaps  "the  most  delightful  province  in  all  Italy, 
and  yet  very  seldom  visited  by  English  travellers." » 
It  is  a  striking  fact  that  De  La  Lande's  account  of  Italy, 
filling  eight  volumes,  merely  gives  the  names  of  the  lakes  * 
without  detail.^ 

As  already  remarked  elsewhere,  the  taste  for  wild 
mountain  scenery  was  still  in  its  infancy  a  century  and 
a  half  ago;  and  the  Middle  Ages  and  their  works  were 
despised  as  barbarous.  Moreover,  to  most  tourists  the 
ordinary  routes  offered  more  than  they  could  well  see 
in  the  time  at  their  disposal.  None  but  the  seasoned 
traveler  could  expect  to  profit  by  independent  explora- 
tion, and  comparatively  few  English  tourists  had  the 
slightest  desire  to  deviate  from  the  conventional  lines. 
And  why,  after  all,  should  a  gay  young  fellow  exile  himself 
in  remote  provincial  towns,  far  from  his  English  associates? 
His  acquaintance  with  the  language  and  the  literature  was 
practically  nothing.  He  cared  little  for  art,  nothing  for 
antiquity,  except  as  a  source  of  curiosities  for  his  museum, 
and  even  on  the  main  routes  he  was  vexed  with  the  unavoid- 



able  annoyances  of  the  journey  and  the  unlikeness  of  the 
inns  to  those  of  England. 

The  facts  already  presented  sufficiently  explain,  and 
in  some  measure  justify,  the  tourist's  preference  for  the 
conventional  routes  affording  at  least  a  moderate  de- 
gree of  comfort.  These  routes  we  find  outlined  in  the 
old  guide-books/  and  also  in  the  narratives  of  travelers. 
There  is  no  lack  of  useful  suggestions  on  the  choice  of 
places  to  visit  both  before  and  after  arriving  in  Italy. 
But  Misson  very  sensibly  remarks:  *"Tis  almost  im- 
possible to  fix  the  road  that  ought  to  be  taken  by  those 
who  design  to  travel  to  Italy,  since  the  choice  of  that 
depends  on  the  place  where  they  intend  to  enter  the 
country,  and  the  time  they  resolve  to  spend  in  it.  Only, 
in  general,  they  ought  to  consult  the  map,  and  so  take 
their  measures,  that  they  may  see  the  last  days  of  the 
camaval  at  Venice,  the  Holy  Week  at  Rome,  and  the 
octave  of  the  Sacrament  at  Bologna;  to  avoid  being 
at  Rome  during  the  great  heats,  etc.  ...  If  they  cannot 
be  at  Venice  during  the  camaval,  they  ought  at  least 
to  be  there  on  Ascension  Day."  ^ 

We  cannot  go  into  great  detail,  but  must  content  our- 
selves with  presenting  a  few  routes  that  were  most  im- 
portant. These  are  obviously  the  routes  leading  to  Rome 
and  to  Naples,  as  well  as  those  connecting  Turin,  Milan, 
Venice,  Genoa,  Bologna,  Florence.  In  the  great  re- 
gion drained  by  the  Po  the  variety  of  possible  routes 
is  bewildering.^  But  in  the  selection  of  routes  throughout 
a  good  part  of  Italy  personal  choice  had  comparatively 
small  play.  The  tourist  must  conform  to  the  obstacles 
presented  by  mountain  barriers  and  shape  his  course 
as  passes  and  valleys  dictated. 

The  configuration  of  the  great  chain  of  the  Apennines 
permitted  but  two  main  routes  from  the  cities  of  northern 
Italy  to  Rome.  One  route  connecting  Florence  *  and 
Rome  passed  through  Siena,  running  down  the  west  side 
of  the  peninsula  some  miles  back  from  the  coast.  This 
route  was  one  hundred  and  fifty-three  miles  long,  and 



touched  Poggibonsi,  Siena,  Borgo,  Lucignano,  Buon 
Convento,    Radicofani,  Acquapendente,   Vitcrbo,   Rome.* 

The  other  main  route  closely  followed  the  coast  of  the 
Adriatic.  Setting  out  from  Venice  —  as  one  coming 
over  the  Brenner  might  well  do  —  one  went  by  gondola 
to  Chioggia,  and  then,  crossing  the  mouths  of  the  Adige 
and  the  Po  and  a  good  number  of  other  streams  and 
wet  places,  arrived  at  Ravenna.  Thence  one  proceeded 
through  Rimini,  Pesaro,  Fano,  Sinigaglia,  Ancona,"  and 
Loretto,  and  by  Foligno,  Spoleto,  Temi,  Narni,  and 
Otricoli  to  the  Papal  city  —  a  distance  of  three  hundred 
and  four  miles  from  Venice. ^  As  there  were  interesting 
places  to  visit  both  on  the  east  and  on  the  west  side  of  Italy, 
the  tourist  was  advised  to  go  down  the  one  side  and  to 
return  on  the  other. 

Besides  these  two  main  routes,  one  less  popular,^  though 
intensely  interesting  to  the  student  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
ran  from  Bologna  over  the  Apennines  through  the  center 
of  the  peninsula,  passing  by  way  of  Perugia  and  Assisi  and 
finally  joining  the  main  road  from  Ancona  to  Rome.^ 
Goethe  traveled  this  way  on  his  famous  Italian  journey, 
visiting,  besides  other  places,  Perugia,  Assisi,  Foligno, 
Spoleto,  and  Tcrni.  But  the  accommodations  on  this 
route  left  much  to  be  desired. 

From  Rome  one  could  go  to  Naples  by  land  or  by 
sea,  but,  as  already  remarked,  the  roads  in  the  great 
region  south  of  Rome  were  wretched  at  best,  even  on  the 
main  route  to  Naples,  and  in  the  less  frequented  parts, 
were  mere  bridle-paths.  One  land  route  from  Rome 
to  Naples  began  with  the  Appian  Way,  and  touched  Ter- 
racina,  Fondi,  Mola,  Gaeta,  and  Capua. 

Another,  a  little  farther  inland,  passed  through  Monte 
Cassino,  but  before  reaching  Naples  joined  the  other 
road  and  proceeded  through  Capua  and  Caserta.  But 
neither  route  was  very  satisfactory  to  the  tourist  who 
depended  for  his  comfort  upon  the  inns  along  the  road. 

The  routes  already  outlined  were  in  general  closely 
followed,  but  to  some  degree  they  were  modified  to  suit 



individual  taste  or  convenience.  In  addition  to  the  great 
towns,  the  tourist  would  inevitably  pass  through  many 
others  more  or  less  notable  and  bestow  upon  them  such 
attention  as  his  taste  dictated  and  his  time  permitted. 

The  tourist  who  had  come  by  sea  along  the  Riviera 
to  Genoa  or  Leghorn,  or  over  Mont  Cenis  to  Turin,  com- 
monly went  down  the  west  side  of  the  peninsula  to  Rome 
and  reserved  Venice  for  the  end  of  the  journey.  William 
Bromley's  trip,  for  example,  made  about  the  close  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  is  typical  of  the  route  followed 
by  the  average  traveler  throughout  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. It  includes  Genoa,  Milan,  Pavia,  Parma,  Reggio, 
Bologna,  Florence,  Lucca,  Pisa,  Leghorn,  Siena,  Monte- 
fiascone,  Rome,  Via  Appia,  Capua,  Naples  (where  he 
spends  five  days),  Rome,  Otricoli,  Nami,  Temi,  Spoleto, 
Loretto,  Ancona,  Fano,  Pesaro,  Rimini,  Ferrara,  the  Adige 
and  the  Po  (which  he  crosses  by  ferry),  Rovigo,  Padua, 
Venice,  Verona.  The  attentive  reader  will  notice  some 
striking  omissions,  but  one  hurried  traveler  could  not  see 

When  Addison  made  his  famous  journey  to  Italy  his 
guide-book  was  Misson's  "New  Voyage  to  Italy,"  which 
in  the  French  or  in  translation  served  at  least  two  gen- 
erations of  tourists.  Addison  spent  over  four  years  abroad, 
remaining  in  France  about  eighteen  months  to  perfect 
himself  in  the  language.  Then  resuming  his  travels  he 
coasted  from  Marseilles  to  Monaco  and  thence  to  Genoa. 
From  here  he  made  his  way  to  Venice  through  Pavia, 
Milan,  Brescia,  Verona,  and  Padua.  His  route  to  Rome 
took  him  down  the  east  coast  and  enabled  him  to  visit 
Ferrara,  Ravenna,  Rimini, —  with  a  side  trip  to  the  little 
mountain  republic  of  San  Marino, —  Pesaro,  Fano,  Sin- 
igaglia,  Ancona,  and  Loretto.  From  Rome  he  proceeded 
to  Naples  by  land,  saw  the  city  and  the  environs,  and 
returned  to  Rome  by  sea.  After  carefully  studying  Rome 
and  the  neighborhood,  he  went  by  way  of  Siena,  Leg- 
horn, Pisa,  and  Lucca  to  Florence.  Before  leaving  Italy 
he  saw  also  Bologna,   Modena,   Parma,   and  Turin,  and 



finally  went  over  Mont  Cenis  to  Geneva.  His  choice 
of  places  was  admirable,  but  he  saw  very  few  outside 
the  usual  round.  In  Switzerland  he  visited  a  few  towns, 
among  which  were  Fribourg,  Bern,  and  Zurich.  To 
Vienna  he  journeyed  through  Innsbruck  and  Hall  and 
returned  to  England  by  way  of  Germany  and  Holland. 

About  a  generation  after  Addison's  tour,  Keysler,  a 
German  traveling  tutor  by  profession,  outlined  in  an 
excellent  hand-book  a  route  followed  by  multitudes  of 
tourists.  In  many  featiu-es  his  route  strikingly  resembles 
Addison's,  though  the  order  is  very  different.  Follow- 
ing this  route  the  tourist  crossed  Mont  Cenis  to  Susa 
and  Turin, ^  made  an  excursion  to  the  Borromean  Isles, 
Milan,  and  Pavia,  and  proceeded  to  Genoa  by  way  of 
Alessandria.  From  Genoa  he  went  by  ship  to  Leghorn 
and  from  there  by  carriage  to  Rome,  through  Pisa,  Lucca, 
Florence,  Siena,  and  Viterbo.  After  Rome  came  a  trip 
to  Naples  by  way  of  Velletri,  Fondi,  and  Capua.  Return- 
ing to  Rome  he  followed  the  coast  road  along  the  Adriatic 
from  Loretto  to  Ravenna  and  then  visited  a  good  number 
of  cities  in  the  region  north  of  the  Apennines  —  Bologna, 
Modena,  Reggio,  Parma,  Piacenza,  Cremona,  Mantua, 
Verona,  Vicenza,  Padua,  Venice.  Keysler  calls  attention 
to  the  fact  that  the  post-houses  along  the  Adriatic  coast 
road  gave  the  traveler  better  accommodations  than  on 
the  route  from  Florence  to  Rome,^  and  brought  him 
in  contact  with  people  more  satisfactory  to  deal  with;  for, 
says  he,  "they  conclude"  that  travelers  on  the  way  to 
Rome  "are  strangers  to  the  road,  and  therefore  think 
it  allowable  to  take  all  advantages  they  can  of  the  un- 
experienced." ^ 

Keysler's  route,  with  the  places  he  singles  out  for  a 
visit,  is  admirable,  and  although  it  necessarily  leaves 
many  interesting  cities  untouched,  it  includes  much 
that  is  most  characteristic  in  Italy.  Such,  then,  in  the 
order  followed  by  Addison  or  by  Keysler,  was  the  normal 
track  of  the  English  tourist,  though  not  every  tourist 
attempted  so  much.^ 



But  the  ambitious  scholar  tried  to  do  more  and  followed, 
with  some  variations,  the  plan  suggested  by  Eustace  for 
an  elaborate  classical  tour  lasting  a  year  and  a  half  and 
including  the  greater  part  of  the  peninsula.  The  tourist 
making  this  tour  visits  in  order  Brussels,  Liege,  Spa, 
Aix-la-Chapelle,  Cologne,  Bonn,  goes  along  the  Rhine 
to  Coblenz,  Mainz,  Strassburg,  crosses  the  Rhine,  sees 
Mannheim,  and  traverses  the  Palatinate  and  the  terri- 
tories of  Wiirtemberg,  Bavaria,  and  Salzburg.  By  way 
of  the  Tyrol  or  the  Rhetian  Alps  he  goes  through  Inns- 
bruck over  the  Brenner  Pass  to  Trent,  Bassano,  and 
Mestre.  Thence  he  may  send  his  carriage  by  land  to 
Padua  and  embark  for  Venice.  From  Venice  he  goes 
to  Padua  by  the  Brenta,  visits  Arqua  and  the  Euganean 
Hills,  then  Ferrara  and  Bologna,  and  proceeds  by  the 
Via  Emilia  to  Forli.  Then  he  turns  to  Ravenna,  skirts 
the  Adriatic  to  Rimini,  and  makes  an  excursion  to  San 
Marino.  Advancing  along  the  coast  toward  Rome  he 
goes  through  Ancona,  Osimo,  Loretto,  and  Macerata  to 
Tolentino,  and  from  thence,  over  the  Apennines  to  Fol- 
igno,  Spoleto,  Temi,  and  Civita  Castellana,  he  arrives 
at  Rome  by  the  end  of  November.  He  is  warned  not 
to  cross  the  Apennines  as  long  as  there  is  danger  of 
malaria  from  the  Pontine  Marshes  and  the  Campagna. 
After  spending  December  in  Rome,  he  goes  to  Naples  for 
January,  February,  and  March,  and  studies  the  environs. 
Returning  to  Rome  the  week  before  Easter  he  sees  in 
April,  May,  and  June  the  region  about  Rome,  —  Tibur 
(Tivoli),  Ostia,  Antium,  Praeneste,  the  Sabine  Mountains, 
—  and  spends  July  and  August  in  the  hill  country  about 
Albano.  In  September  he  turns  toward  Florence,  visits 
Vallombrosa,  Camaldoli,  and  La  Vema,  and  winters 
in  Florence  and  other  Tuscan  cities.  Early  in  February 
he  passes  the  Apennines  to  visit  Modena,  Parma,  Pia- 
cenza,  Lodi,  Cremona,  Mantua,  Verona,  allowing  four 
or  five  days  or  more  to  each.  From  Verona  he  goes  to 
Peschiera  and  Lago  di  Garda;  thence  by  Brescia  and 
Bergamo  to  Milan,  Como,  Lago  Maggiore,  Vercelli,  Tor- 



tona,  Genoa,  and  along  the  Maritime  Alps  by  Savona  to 
Nice,  and  concludes  his  Italian  tour  with  Turin. 

This  is  without  question  an  admirable  tour,  as  far  as 
it  goes,  but  in  view  of  the  striking  omission  of  the  whole 
of  Sicily,  of  Orvieto,  Assisi,  Perugia,  Cortona,  Chiusi, 
Gubbio,  Urbino,  Siena,  Volterra,  and  a  score  of  other 
places  of  interest  alike  to  the  classical  and  the  ordinary 
tourist,  the  concluding  remark  of  Eustace  is  particularly 
suggestive:  "If  while  at  Naples,  he  find  it  safe  or  prac- 
ticable to  penetrate  into  the  southern  provinces  of  Cal- 
abria and  Apulia,  he  will  not  neglect  the  opportunity; 
and,  with  the  addition  of  that  excursion,  by  following  the 
road  which  I  have  traced  out,  he  will  have  seen  every 
town  of  note,  and  indeed  every  remarkable  plain,  hill, 
or  mountain  in  Italy."  ^ 


But  it  is  time  to  turn  from  routes  to  the  cities  them- 
selves. It  is  hardly  necessary  to  consider  in  detail  every 
place  that  tourists  visited,  and  such  a  procedure  would 
manifestly  carry  us  far  beyond  our  limits,  but  we  may  well 
single  out  a  few  typical  cities  of  special  interest.  We  have 
already  observed  that  tourists  generally  followed  routes 
that  had  long  been  established.  But  in  laying  out  their 
itinerary  tourists  naturally  modified  their  plans  for  a 
great  variety  of  reasons.  More  than  one  place  owed  a 
good  part  of  its  popularity  to  the  fact  that  it  was  con- 
veniently situated  on  one  of  the  conventional  lines  of 

A  good  instance  is  Chambery,  in  Savoy.  This  old  city, 
on  one  of  the  main  eighteenth-century  routes  to  Italy  and 
in  the  midst  of  charming  mountain  scenery,  drew  many 
English  tourists  for  a  protracted  stay.  But  the  Earl 
of  Cork  and  Orrery,  to  cite  one  example,  confessed  his 
disillusion  when  he  really  saw  the  place:  "How  have  I 
been  mistaken  in  my  expectations  of  Chamberry?  I  had 
read  so  much  in  news-papers,  treaties,  and  modem  his- 



survey  of  Italy.  Genoa  the  Superb  owed  its  title,  in  part, 
to  its  magnificent  situation  and  in  part  to  its  palaces. 
The  Via  Baibi  and  the  Via  Nuova  were  two  of  the  most 
famous  streets  in  Europe.  Great  wealth  had  flowed  into 
the  city  through  the  channels  of  trade;  and  the  excess 
of  shrewdness  that  the  Genoese  displayed  had  long  since 
won  them  the  reputation  "of  being  a  treacherous,  over- 
reaching set  of  people,  ...  so  cunning  that  it  would 
be  impossible  for  a  Jew  to  get  bread  amongst  them."  ^ 
As  at  Venice,  the  nobles  of  Genoa  for  centuries  had  not 
disdained  to  turn  their  attention  to  commerce  and  to 
banking,  and  some  of  them  had  incomes  of  a  million 
a  year.^  But  here,  as  elsewhere,  the  nobles  had  degen- 
erated, and  they  displayed  little  of  the  energy  of  their 
ancestors.  "  Public  opinion  is  nothing  here,"^  says  Dupaty, 
the  French  tourist.  Yet  the  Genoese  people  had  the 
proud  distinction  of  maintaining  their  independence 
in  the  eighteenth  century  in  the  face  of  Austria.^ 

Visitors  to  Genoa  as  a  rule  express  little  enthusiasm. 
Dupaty  finds  the  streets  dirty  and  filled  with  beggars.^ 
So  numerous  were  the  mendicants  that  Mrs.  Piozzisays: 
"A  chair  is,  therefore,  above  all  things,  necessary  to  be 
carried  in,  even  a  dozen  steps,  if  you  are  likely  to  feel 
shocked  at  having  your  knees  suddenly  clasped  by  a 
figure  hardly  human;  who  perhaps,  holding  you  forcibly 
for  a  minute,  conjures  you  loudly  by  the  sacred  wounds 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  have  compassion  on  his 
wounds;"  ^  at  the  same  time  showing  them.  No  particu- 
lar significance  need  be  given  to  the  presence  of  the  beg- 
gars, who  were  only  too  common  throughout  the  penin- 
sula. Yet  in  a  meastu-e  they  showed  that  Genoa  shared 
the  decay  of  the  rest  of  Italy.  In  other  respects,  Genoa 
had  a  somewhat  unpleasant  reputation,  which  appears 
to  have  been  fairly  earned.  Tourists  commonly  remarked 
upon  the  affability,  but  also  upon  the  penuriousness,  of 
the  nobles,  the  lack  of  interest  in  art,  the  public  per- 
mission of  games  of  chance,  and  the  dullness  of  the  city.^ 
Cicisbeism  here,  as  elsewhere,  was  general. 



Women  had  more  privileges  at  Genoa  than  in  most 
of  the  cities  of  Italy;  they  were  far  better  educated  than 
in  any  other  part  of  Italy,  though  some  tourists  remark 
upon  their  distaste  for  reading;  ^  and  they  might  have 
been  expected  to  make  the  city  the  social  rival  of  Turin, 
at  least.  Such  rank  it  never  attained,  and  at  best  it  can 
hardly  be  called  a  favorite  sojourn  of  English  tourists. 
But  whatever  its  drawbacks,  it  was  one  of  the  gateways 
to  Italy,  and  it  saw  every  year  a  cosmopolitan  society  gath- 
ered from  all  parts  of  Europe  —  from  England,  "Ger- 
many, France,  Sweden,  and  Russia" — that  met  in  the 
conversazioni  to  which  one  might  with  no  great  difficulty 
find  admittance.  Dull  as  the  conversazioni  usually  were, 
with  their  endless  games  of  chance  and  their  vapid  chatter, 
they  were  not  lacking  in  outward  splendor.  The  palaces 
were  "magnificently  furnished  with  pictures,  gildings, 
lustres";  ^  and  the  entertainments,  although  "more  costly 
than  elegant,"  2  were  fairly  typical  of  what  one  might 
expect  to  find  elsewhere  in  Italy. 

When  we  pass  from  Genoa  to  the  region  drained  by  the 
Po,  we  find  an  open  country  in  which  the  tourist  could 
journey  in  any  direction  at  his  convenience.  We  cannot 
follow  him  from  point  to  point,  but  must  single  out  for  a 
word  of  comment  a  few  favorite  cities.  And  we  may  well 
begin  with  Milan. 

Milan  was  the  third  city  in  Italy  for  wealth  and  pop- 
ulation, and  in  De  La  Lande's  opinion  was  "of  all  the 
cities  of  Italy  the  one  where  strangers  were  most  favorably 
received."  ^  All  sorts  of  foreign  money  circulated  there;* 
and  even  in  Misson's  day  there  were  two  men  ' '  who  made 
it  their  business  to  show  the  rarities  of  the  place  to  stran- 
gers." ^  The  people  of  Milan  were  "commonly  com- 
pared to  the  Germans  for  their  plain  honesty,  and  to 
the  French  for  their  fondness  of  pomp  and  elegance  in 
equipages  and  household  furniture."  ^ 

Under  the  Spanish  domination  Milan  and  the  sur- 
rounding country  had  been  overloaded  with  debts;  com- 
merce   had    been    reduced    to   almost   nothing,    agricul- 



ture  neglected  and  the  people  impoverished.  In  the 
course  of  the  eighteenth  century,  after  Milan  came  under 
Austrian  rule,  reforms  of  all  sorts  were  introduced.  Wealth 
followed  industry,  and  reasonable  contentment  pre- 
vailed. "The  period  of  Maria  Theresa,"  says  Tivaroni, 
"in  the  memory  of  the  Lombards  who  could  compare  it 
wnth  the  Spanish,  remained  the  age  of  gold."  ^ 

Milan  was  noted  for  its  comfort  and  cheapness,  ^  but 
it  had  no  such  fascination  as  did  Naples  or  Rome,  and 
never  won  an  assured  place  as  the  favorite  abode  of  Eng- 
lish travelers  who  could  afford  the  time  for  a  protracted 
sojourn.  De  La  Lande  advises  the  tourist  to  spend  four 
days  at  Milan.  In  this  time  a  busy  man  could  easily  see 
the  pictures  at  the  Brera,  the  collection  of  medals,  the 
churches,  and  the  great  hospital,  though,  of  course,  he 
could  make  little  or  no  acquaintance  with  the  people. 
As  already  remarked,  there  was  no  lack  of  welcome  for 
foreigners,  particularly  for  the  English,  at  fashionable 
balls  and  assemblies.  But  the  society  the  hurried  tourist 
saw  was  mainly  that  which  paraded  the  streets  in  carriages 
in  the  evening  and  passed  and  repassed  in  the  great  place 
about  the  cathedral. 

From  many  points  of  view,  particularly  in  its  buildings, 
brilliantly  representing  many  types  of  architecture,  and 
in  its  collections  of  art,  Milan  unquestionably  offered 
notable  attractions.  But  tourists  were  disposed  to  be 
critical.  Especially  did  the  cathedral  in  its  partly  fin- 
ished state  fail  to  satisfy  the ,  taste  of  many,  though 
they  were  awed  by  its  size.  Burnet's  comments  are  typ- 
ical: "The  dome  hath  nothing  to  commend  it  of  archi- 
tecture, it  being  built  in  the  rude  Gothic  manner;  but 
for  the  vastness  and  riches  of  the  building  it  is  equal 
to  any  in  Italy,  St.  Peter's  itself  not  excepted."  But 
he  goes  on  to  say:  "The  riches  of  the  churches  of 
Milan  strike  one  with  amazement,  the  building,  the 
painting,  the  altars,  and  the  plate,  and  everything  in  the 
convents  except  their  libraries,  are  all  signs  both  of 
great  wealth  and  of  a  very  powerful  superstition.      But 



their  libraries  not  only  here,  but  all  Italy  over,  are 
scandalous  things."  * 

Beside  Burnet's  impressions  we  may  place  those  of 
De  Brosses,  more  than  a  half-century  later.  The  lively 
French  traveler  was  enthusiastic  over  Milan  until  he  had 
visited  Rome.  But,  says  he,  "Rome  has  so  many  other 
beautiful  things  that  I  have  seen  since,  that  they  have 
entirely  spoiled  Milan  for  me."  ^  He  would  like,  he  says, 
to  withdraw  all  the  superlatives  that  he  had  put  into  his 
earlier  letters.  An  opinion  of  this  sort  must  not  be  taken 
for  more  than  it  is  worth,  but  it  unquestionably  represents 
a  not  infrequent  attitude  toward  Milan  in  the  eighteenth 

In  going  from  Milan  to  Venice  one  was  likely  to  see 
Verona  and  Padua.  To  the  mere  tourist  Verona  offered 
less  for  a  long  stay  than  Florence  or  Rome,  but  the  swift 
foaming  river,  the  girdling  mountains,  the  quaint  beauty 
of  the  medieval  city,  and  the  solemn  dignity  of  the  great 
Roman  amphitheater,  gave  the  little  city  a  marked  in- 
dividuality. Few  situations  in  Italy  were  more  delight- 
ful. Evelyn,  with  his  English  fondness  for  country  life, 
said  that  of  all  places  he  had  seen  in  Italy  he  would  there 
fix  his  residence.  Mrs.  Piozzi  counted  Verona  the  gay- 
est town  she  had  ever  lived  in;  and  this,  after  a  long  ex- 
perience with  society  in  London  and  on  the  Continent. 
The  city  had  come  up  since  Misson's  day,  when  it  looked 
"like  a  poor  place,"  with  little  trade  and  with  not  many 
of  the  landed  gentry  who  made  any  great  figure.  In  the 
eighteenth  century  Verona  saw  every  year  a  multitude 
of  tourists,  but,  for  the  most  part,  they  rapidly  viewed 
the  amphitheater,  the  churches,  and  the  other  sights, 
and  passed  on  to  Venice,  to  Florence,  to  Rome. 

In  going  from  Verona  to  Padua  many  travelers  passed 
through  Vicenza.  This  little  city  possesses  in  the  fagade 
of  its  town-house  the  greatest  masterpiece  of  Palladio, 
to  say  nothing  of  his  famous  Olympic  theater  and  a 
score  of  notable  palaces,  but  in  general  the  comments 
of  tourists  on  Vicenza  are  contemptuous.     Misson  calls 



the  town-house  "  an  indifferent  structure,  as  indeed," 
he  adds,  "are  many  others  which  pass  among  them  for 
mighty  magnificent  buildings";  and  later  travelers  echo 
his   opinion. 

One  who  was  bound  for  Venice  could  hardly  avoid 
visiting  Padua.  The  university  no  longer  attracted 
English  students  as  it  did  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  when 
young  Oxonians  who  traveled  in  Italy  were  accustomed 
to  carry  home  certificates  of  matriculation  at  Padua, ^ 
but  despite  the  partly  deserted  thoroughfares  there  was 
a  quiet  charm  in  the  place  that  still  brought  many  tourists. 
Not  every  one,  it  is  true,  displays  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
clerical  Dr.  Warner,  who  writes  to  Selwyn  in  177S:  "Oh 
sir,  you  must  come  to  Padua!  There  are  a  thousand 
things  worth  seeing,  and  I  think  there  would  be  good 
society  found  in  it.  I  am  much  pleased  with  it.  The 
grass  indeed,  grows  in  the  streets,  but  perhaps  I  like  it 
the  better  for  that  reason."  ' 

Like  most  other  Italian  cities,  Padua,  in  the  eighteenth 
century  was  in  a  depressed  state.  Trade  had  greatly 
fallen  off;  the  population  had  sadly  dwindled;  beggars 
swarmed  at  every  corner.  Tourists  bent  upon  social 
pleasure  felt  the  air  of  melancholy  that  brooded  over  the 
place,  and  not  many  thought  of  making  a  prolonged  stay 
there,  as  had  so  commonly  been  the  case  in  the  sixteenth 
century.  The  renowned  church  of  St.  Anthony  still  was 
an  attraction  to  the  devout  from  all  over  Italy,  but  to 
stolid  English  tourists  it  was  a,  mere  object  of  curiosity. 
Most  of  the  other  churches  excited  little  interest.  The 
French  tourist  De  La  Lande  devotes  half  a  page  to  Giotto's 
frescoes  in  S.  Annunziata  nell'Arena,^  but  visitors  in  gen- 
eral in  the  mid-eighteenth  century  are  not  much  con- 
cerned with  medieval  art. 


When  at  Padua  one  was  at  the  threshold  of  Venice. 
Few  tourists  neglected  Venice,  for  the  charms  of  the  island 



city  were  unique.  The  marvelous  situation  of  the  place, 
with  the  tides  of  the  sea  sweeping  past  the  walls  of  stately 
palaces,  appealed  strongly  to  the  imagination  and  drew 
multitudes  from  every  country  in  Europe.  In  the  Carnival 
season  the  number  of  strangers  rose  to  thirty  thousand.^ 
In  1766,  Venice  still  ranked  as  the  third  city  in  Italy,^  but 
she  was  nevertheless  the  mere  shadow  of  her  former  self  and 
possessed  only  the  tradition  of  the  days  when  she  was  Queen 
of  the  Adriatic  and  made  her  might  felt  in  the  Far  East. 

The  so-called  Republic  of  Venice  was  in  reality  a  narrow 
oligarchy,  in  which  the  common  people  counted  for  noth- 
ing.3    Not  only  were  the  common  people  excluded  from  all 
voice  in  the  government,  but  so,  too,  were  most  of  the  no- 
bility.   The  direction  of  affairs  was  in  the  hands  of  a  few 
of  the  richest  families,  while  the  rest  of  the  population 
acquiesced  in  entire  indifference.^    A  diminutive  army  of 
four  thousand  men  was  charged  with  guarding  the  Vene- 
tian provinces  and  with  maintaining,  in  some  degree,  the 
dignity  of  the  state.      But  beggars  and  worthless  vagabonds 
swarmed  in  the  city  streets  and  in  the  outlying  country. 
Thieves  greatly  disturbed  the  public  tranquillity  and  per- 
sonal security.6    Yet  we  may  note  that  the  city  was  lighted 
at  night  by  three  thousand  lanterns.^ 

Many  things  were,  indeed,  in  a  bad  way.    All  classes  of 
society  were  impoverished.    The  nobles  did  nothing  useful 
and  occupied  their  too  abundant  leisure  with  gambling  and 
licentiousness.    The  old  commercial  preeminence  of  Venice, 
along  with  her  old  aggressive  spirit,  had  long  since  van- 
ished.    "The  art  of  glass-making  was  in  great  decadence 
.  .  .  the  manufacture  of  iron  had  declined."  7    The  workers 
in  gold  had  lost  their  cunning.     But  in  her  poverty  and 
weakness  Venice  had  not  lost  her  arrogance.    The  jealous 
suspicion  that  had  come  down  from  an  earlier  day  forbade 
the  nobles  to  hold  any  conversation  with  ambassadors  or 
foreign  ministers.^    Even  to  address  them  through  a  third 
party  was  hazardous.^     Rightly  enough  Sharp  remarks: 
"The  law  therefore  renders  the  life  of  a  foreign  minister 
exceedingly  dull  and  unsociable;   besides  that  it  stops  the 



the  town-house  "an  indifferent  structure,  as  indeed," 
he  adds,  "are  many  others  which  pass  among  them  for 
mighty  magnificent  buildings";  and  later  travelers  echo 
his   opinion. 

One  who  was  bound  for  Venice  could  hardly  avoid 
visiting  Padua.  The  university  no  longer  attracted 
English  students  as  it  did  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  when 
young  Oxonians  who  traveled  in  Italy  were  accustomed 
to  carry  home  certificates  of  matriculation  at  Padua, ^ 
but  despite  the  partly  deserted  thoroughfares  there  was 
a  quiet  charm  in  the  place  that  still  brought  many  tourists. 
Not  every  one,  it  is  true,  displays  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
clerical  Dr.  Warner,  who  writes  to  Selwyn  in  1778:  "Oh 
sir,  you  must  come  to  Padua!  There  are  a  thousand 
things  worth  seeing,  and  I  think  there  would  be  good 
society  found  in  it.  I  am  much  pleased  with  it.  The 
grass  indeed,  grows  in  the  streets,  but  perhaps  I  like  it 
the  better  for  that  reason."  ^ 

Like  most  other  Italian  cities,  Padua,  in  the  eighteenth 
century  was  in  a  depressed  state.  Trade  had  greatly 
fallen  off;  the  population  had  sadly  dwindled;  beggars 
swarmed  at  every  corner.  Toiurists  bent  upon  social 
pleasure  felt  the  air  of  melancholy  that  brooded  over  the 
place,  and  not  many  thought  of  making  a  prolonged  stay 
there,  as  had  so  commonly  been  the  case  in  the  sixteenth 
century.  The  renowned  church  of  St.  Anthony  still  was 
an  attraction  to  the  devout  from  all  over  Italy,  but  to 
stolid  English  tourists  it  was  a  mere  object  of  curiosity. 
Most  of  the  other  churches  excited  little  interest.  The 
French  tourist  De  La  Lande  devotes  half  a  page  to  Giotto's 
frescoes  in  S.  Annunziata  nell'Arena,^  but  visitors  in  gen- 
eral in  the  mid-eighteenth  centtiry  are  not  much  con- 
cerned with  medieval  art. 


When  at  Padua  one  was  at  the  threshold  of  Venice. 
Few  tourists  neglected  Venice,  for  the  charms  of  the  island 



city  were  unique.  The  marvelous  situation  of  the  place, 
with  the  tides  of  the  sea  sweeping  past  the  walls  of  stately 
palaces,  appealed  strongly  to  the  imagination  and  drew 
multitudes  from  every  country  in  Europe.  In  the  Carnival 
season  the  number  of  strangers  rose  to  thirty  thousand.^ 
In  1766,  Venice  still  ranked  as  the  third  city  in  Italy,^  but 
she  was  nevertheless  the  mere  shadow  of  her  former  self  and 
possessed  only  the  tradition  of  the  days  when  she  was  Queen 
of  the  Adriatic  and  made  her  might  felt  in  the  Far  East. 

The  so-called  Republic  of  Venice  was  in  reality  a  narrow 
oligarchy,  in  which  the  common  people  counted  for  noth- 
ing.^ Not  only  were  the  common  people  excluded  from  all 
voice  in  the  government,  but  so,  too,  were  most  of  the  no- 
bility. The  direction  of  affairs  was  in  the  hands  of  a  few 
of  the  richest  families,  while  the  rest  of  the  population 
acquiesced  in  entire  indifference.'*  A  diminutive  army  of 
four  thousand  men  was  charged  with  guarding  the  Vene- 
tian provinces  and  with  maintaining,  in  some  degree,  the 
dignity  of  the  state.  But  beggars  and  worthless  vagabonds 
swarmed  in  the  city  streets  and  in  the  outlying  country. 
Thieves  greatly  disturbed  the  public  tranquillity  and  per- 
sonal security.^  Yet  we  may  note  that  the  city  was  lighted 
at  night  by  three  thousand  lanterns.® 

Many  things  were,  indeed,  in  a  bad  way.  All  classes  of 
society  were  impoverished.  The  nobles  did  nothing  useful 
and  occupied  their  too  abundant  leisure  with  gambling  and 
licentiousness.  The  old  commercial  preeminence  of  Venice, 
along  with  her  old  aggressive  spirit,  had  long  since  van- 
ished. "The  art  of  glass-making  was  in  great  decadence 
,  .  .  the  manufacture  of  iron  had  declined."  ^  The  workers 
in  gold  had  lost  their  cunning.  But  in  her  poverty  and 
weakness  Venice  had  not  lost  her  arrogance.  The  jealous 
suspicion  that  had  come  down  from  an  earlier  day  forbade 
the  nobles  to  hold  any  conversation  with  ambassadors  or 
foreign  ministers.^  Even  to  address  them  through  a  third 
party  was  hazardous.^  Rightly  enough  Sharp  remarks: 
"The  law  therefore  renders  the  life  of  a  foreign  minister 
exceedingly  dull  and  imsociable;   besides  that  it  stops  the 



channel  through  which  young  gentlemen  on  their  travels 
would  naturally  find  access  to  the  best  company."  ^  But, 
says  De  La  Lande,  "the  reserve  that  Venetians  of  the 
highest  class  affect  for  the  foreign  ministers  does  not  ex- 
tend entirely  to  those  who  have  relations  with  them  and 
who  see  them."  And,  he  adds,  "in  everything  that  does 
not  concern  the  government  one  enjoys  the  greatest  free- 
dom at  Venice,  and  strangers  are  not  disturbed  there."  ^ 
Nevertheless,  spies  were  ever  on  the  alert,  and  early  in  the 
century  it  behooved  "every  prudent  person  to  be  upon  his 
guard,  and  to  observe  the  strictest  caution  in  talking  of 
state  affairs  at  Venice."  ^  In  Keysler's  day  the  suspicious 
government  did  not  permit  company  to  gather  freely  for 
conversation  in  the  coffee-houses  round  St.  Mark's  Place.* 

Not  unnaturally,  the  Venetian  nobility  avoided  possible 
trouble  by  having  no  unnecessary  relations  with  foreigners. 
The  traditional  exclusiveness  had  in  the  course  of  genera- 
tions hardened  into  a  fixed  social  usage.  Strangers  might 
meet  members  of  the  Venetian  nobility  at  a  cafe  or  on  the 
Broglio,  but  were  not  commonly  admitted  to  their  houses 
or  to  their  social  gatherings,^  and  accordingly  found  "less 
society  at  Venice  than  in  most  of  the  cities  of  Italy"  ^  —  a 
situation  that  many  English  tourists  found  not  hard  to  bear. 
The  nobles  of  Venice  were,  indeed,  sadly  degenerate  and 
well  deserved  the  cutting  satire  of  Goldoni.'' 

But  although  close  relations  with  the  Venetian  nobility 
were  not  easy  to  establish,  this  lazy,  decadent  city,  with 
its  multi-colored  spectacles,  was  a  delightful  place.  Stran- 
gers agree  that  there  were  few  cities  where  one  found  so 
much  politeness  as  at  Venice  ^  and  where  one  was  made 
more  thoroughly  at  home.  Venice  was  one  of  the  half- 
dozen  cities  of  the  peninsula  that  tempted  foreigners  to 
make  a  prolonged  stay.^  Evelyn  spent  six  months  there 
while  on  his  Continental  tour.  Naturally,  the  tide  of  Eng- 
lish tourists  at  Venice  ebbed  and  flowed.  Lady  Mary  Wort- 
ley  Montagu,  in  a  letter  of  October  14,  1739,  says:  "Here 
are  no  English  except  a  Mr.  Berlie  and  his  governor,  who 
arrived  two  days  ago,  and  who  intend  but  a  short  stay." 



But  in  an  undated  letter,  possibly  written  in  1740,  she 
complains  of  "this  town  being  at  present  infested  with 
English,  who  torment  me  as  much  as  the  frogs  and  lice  did 
the  palace  of  Pharaoh,  and  are  surprised  that  I  will  not 
suffer  them  to  skip  about  my  house  from  morning  till 
night;  me,  that  never  opened  my  doors  to  such  sort  of 
animals  in  England.  I  wish  I  knew  a  corner  of  the  world 
inaccessible  to  petit-maitres  and  fine  ladies."  ^ 

The  attractions  of  Venice,  even  apart  from  the  unique 
situation  and  the  exquisite  buildings,  were  many.     Even 
to  jaded  tourists  the  Carnival,  with  its  long-continued  fes- 
tivities, offered  something  unique.    Strangers,  accordingly, 
flocked  to  Venice,  and  if  possible  arranged  their  tour  so  as 
to  be  there  at  Ascension  time,  when  was  "the  winding  up 
of  the  Italian  season  of  amusements  for  foreigners."  2    The 
great  fair  in  the  Piazza  of  St.  Mark  began  with  the  Feast 
of  the  Ascension,  and  on  Ascension  Day  the  Doge  wedded 
the  Adriatic  with  his  ring.    Besides  the  out-of-door  spec- 
tacles,   eight   or   nine   theaters,    including   opera   houses, 
offered  abundance  of  comedy  for  every  taste.^     Tragedy 
was  out  of  fashion.^    Throughout  the  performance  of  the 
play  or  the  opera  there  was  a  constant  buzz  of  conversa- 
tion, but  as  soon  as  the  ballet  'dancers  flitted  across  the 
stage  the  chatter  ceased  ^  and  the  eyes  of  the  spectators 
eagerly  followed  every  movement.    Strangers  were  warned 
not  to  sit  in  the  pit,  for  the  gilded  youth  of  Venice  had  the 
pleasant  habit  not  only  of  throwing  the  rinds  of  oranges  and 
other  fruit  from  their  boxes,  but  also  of  spitting  upon  the 
heads  of  humbler  folk  who  sat  below  them.^ 

Although  the  various  forms  of  entertainment  at  Venice 
afforded  many  strangers  abundance  of  pastime  for  months, 
tourists  of  active  temperament  often  found  that  the  novelty 
of  Venice  rapidly  wore  off,  and  the  city  became  tiresome. 
Englishmen  in  particular,  accustomed  as  they  were  to 
brisk  walks  over  the  hills  or  to  riding  across  country  after 
the  hounds,  felt  the  confinement  irksome.  "When  you 
wish  to  take  the  air  here,  you  must  submit  to  be  paddled 
about  from  morning  till  night  in  a  narrow  boat,  along  dirty 



canals;  or,  if  you  don't  like  this,  you  have  one  resource 
more,  which  is,  that  of  walking  in  St.  Mark's."  ^ 

Critical  tourists  eniunerate  many  other  drawbacks.  One 
finds  the  water  an  invitation  to  gnats;  and,  as  every  one 
knows,  they  are  at  times  an  intolerable  nuisance  in  the 
Venice  of  our  own  day.^  Moreover,  at  certain  seasons  the 
stench  from  the  canals  was  overpowering.^  In  a  letter  to 
Selwyn  the  lively  Dr.  Warner  breaks  out:  "But  if  the 
eye,  with  its  neighbour  nose,  suffers  itself  to  be  carried 
down  the  Grand  Canal,  which  .  .  .  leads  to  the  chinks 
and  crannies  of  the  city,  —  f ah !  an  ounce  of  civet,  good 
apothecary,  to  sweeten  my  imagination  —  Venice  is  a  stink- 
pot, charged  with  the  very  virus  of  hell !  I  do  not  wonder 
that  Howard  of  Bedford,  the  jail-man,  who  is  just  gone 
from  hence,  should  advise  a  young  gentleman  who  is  in  the 
house  not  to  stay  above  four  days  lest  he  should  be  ill."  * 
Nugent  objects  to  "the  dampness  of  the  air  and  the  scar- 
city of  good  water  and  fuel,"  and  adds:  "It  may  be  a  fine 
city  to  spend  a  month  or  two  in,  but  not  to  be  confined  in 
all  one's  life."  ^ 

Many  tourists  complain  that  even  St.  Mark's  Place  and 
the  Doge's  Palace  are  unspeakably  filthy.  Baron  von 
Archenholz  —  to  cite  but  one  witness  —  says  that  "in  the 
Doge's  Palace,  not  only  the  entrance,  but  the  very  stairs 
are  like  a  sink.  Go  where  you  will,  you  find  whole  rills  of 
stinking  water,  and  smell  its  noxious  exhalations.  The 
nobles,  who  honestly  contribute  their  share,  never  regard 
these  nuisances,  and  paddle  through  them  with  uplifted 
gowns."  ^ 

Venice  had,  moreover,  an  unenviable  preeminence  as  the 
brothel  of  Europe,^  though  Naples  was  notorious  for  its 
vileness.  Especially  at  the  carnival  time  the  comparative 
reserve  of  ordinary  seasons  was  thrown  off,  and  courtesans 
brazenly  captured  their  victims  in  the  streets.  The  moral 
tone  of  the  society  that  set  the  standards  for  Venice  was 
deplorable.^  Says  Nugent:  "The  use  of  concubines  is  so 
generally  received  that  the  wife  generally  lives  in  good  cor- 
respondence with  them."     Mothers,  he  goes  on  to  say, 





arrange  to  get  one  for  an  unmarried  son.  Sometimes  two 
or  three  young  fellows  share  one  among  them  and  divide 
the  expense.  "When  the  nobility  have  done  with  their 
concubines,  they  become  courtezans.  Of  these  there  are 
whole  streets  full,  who  receive  all  comers;  and  as  the 
habits  of  other  people  are  black  and  dismal,  these  dress  in 
the  gayest  colors,  with  their  breasts  open  and  their  faces  all 
bedaubed  with  paint,  standing  by  dozens  at  the  doors  and 
windows  to  invite  their  customers."  ^  Even  Baretti  ad- 
mits that  Venice  is  ' '  infinitely  more  corrupted ' '  than  London 
itself.  There  are,  it  is  true,  many  ladies  "of  the  most  ex- 
alted virtue,"  but  "they  are  not  commonly  known  to 
English  travellers."  2  " The  courtezans  here, "  says  North- 
all,  "are  the  most  insinuating,  and  have  the  most  alluring 
arts  of  any  in  all  Italy."  ^  And  Byron  once  remarked  to 
Captain  Med  win:  "Everything  in  a  Venetian  life,  its  gon- 
dolas, its  effeminating  indolence,  its  siroccos  tend  to  ener- 
vate the  mind  and  body."  The  fact  that  women  could  go 
alone  in  their  gondolas  without  being  watched  ^  contributed 
to  the  general  immorality. 

We  must  not  linger  undiily  in  Venice,  but  we  ought  to 
glance  for  a  moment  at  the  ordinary  eighteenth-century  es- 
timates of  its  most  famous  building,  St.  Mark's,  and  its 
immediate  surroundings.  In  externals  Venice  has  changed 
less  in  a  centiiry  and  a  half  than  any  other  large  city  in 
Italy.  The  scenes  in  pictures  of  Canaletto  appear  even  yet 
strangely  familiar  to  one  who  knows  Venice.  Cory  ate  and 
Howell  were  there  three  centuries  ago,  yet  their  comments 
show  that  much  of  the  city  as  we  know  it  to-day  was  al- 
ready before  their  eyes.  Cory  ate  is  enthusiastic  over  the 
splendor  of  Venice,  and  he  regards  St.  Mark's  Place  as  in- 
comparably the  finest  in  the  world.  "For  here,"  says  he, 
"is  the  greatest  magnificence  of  architecture  to  be  scene, 
that  any  place  under  the  sunne  doth  yielde.  Here  you  may 
both  see  all  manner  of  fashions  of  attire,  and  hear  all  the 
languages  of  Christendome,  besides  those  that  are  spoken 
by  the  barbarous  Ethnickes."  ^  In  view  of  the  mild  con- 
tempt with  which  most  eighteenth-century  tourists  looked 



upon  the  church  of  St.  Mark,  Coryate's  estimate  is  highly 
suggestive:  "Next  unto  the  Duke's  Palace  the  beautifull 
Church  of  Saint  Marke  doth  of  its  owne  accord  as  it  were 
offer  it  self  now  to  be  spoken  off.  Which  though  it  be  but 
little,  yet  it  is  exceeding  rich,  and  so  sumptuous  for  the 
statelenesse  of  the  architecture,  that  I  think  very  few  in 
Christendome  of  the  bignesse  doe  surpasse  it."  ^ 

Far  more  reserved  is  the  praise  of  a  later  day.  There  are, 
indeed,  few  more  illuminating  illustrations  of  the  taste  of 
the  eighteenth  century  than  appear  in  the  comments  upon 
St.  Mark's.  Most  travelers  speak  of  it  in  slighting  terms 
and  class  it  with  Gothic  churches  as  unworthy  of  admira- 
tion. Says  one:  "All  this  labour  and  expense  have  been 
directed  by  a  very  moderate  share  of  taste."  The  seven- 
teenth-century Evelyn  found  it  "much  too  dark  and  dis- 
mal, and  of  heavy  work."  ^  Burnet  observes:  "St.  Mark's 
church  hath  nothing  to  recommend  it,  but  its  great  an- 
tiquity, and  the  vast  riches  of  the  building."  ^  And  he  is  in 
entire  accord  with  travelers  for  more  than  a  century  after 
him.  The  precious  materials  employed  in  the  construction 
excite  wonder,  but  there  is  almost  universal  condemnation 
of  the  style.  One  critic  complains,  "'Tis  pity  the  design 
was  not  conducted  by  a  better  judgement,  and  a  finer  taste 
of  architecture;  'tis  neither  what  we  call  Gothick,  nor  is 
it  regular."  ^  De  La  Lande  calls  it  "neither  the  largest  nor 
the  most  beautiful  church  at  Venice.  It  is  of  a  bad  Gothic, 
and  has  almost  the  air  of  a  fourneau,  but  it  is  the  most 
adorned,  the  richest,  and  the  most  celebrated  of  Venice."  ^ 
Even  the  brilliant  De  Brosses  has  his  fling:  " It  is  a  church 
in  the  Greek  style,  low,  impenetrable  to  the  light,  in 
wretched  taste  both  within  and  without,  surmounted  by 
seven  domes  covered  with  gold  mosaic  which  makes  them 
seem  far  more  like  chaldrons  than  cupolas."  ^  He  goes  on 
to  say:  "One  can  see  nothing  so  pitiable  as  these  mosaics. 
Happily,  the  workmen  had  the  wise  precaution  to  inscribe 
on  each  subject  what  they  wished  to  represent."  ^  Smith 
pronounces  St.  Mark's  Church  "perhaps  the  most  dirty 
place  of  public  worship  in  Europe,  except  the  Jews'  syna- 



gogue  at  Rome;  it  is  at  the  same  time  the  richest  in  mate- 
rials and  the  worst  in  style."  ^  But  he  is  good  enough  to 
add:  2  "Nevertheless  this  church  is  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable in  Italy  for  its  antiquity  and  riches,  though  so 
barbarous  and  inelegant  in  style."  Eustace  speaks  of  its 
"gloomy  barbaric  magnificence ";  ^  and  other  tourists 
praise  it,  if  at  all,  with  great  reserve. 

The  relative  importance  of  St.  Mark's,  in  the  opinion  of 
some  travelers,  may  be  seen  in  the  space  allotted  to  it. 
Northall,  in  his  account  of  Venice,  gives  ten  lines  to  St. 
Mark's  and  no  praise;  ^  while  to  S.  Giorgio  Maggiore,  or 
at  least  to  the  paintings,  he  allows  twenty-four  lines.^  In 
Mariana  Starke's  "Letters  from  Italy,"  she  devotes  five 
and  a  half  lines  to  St.  Mark's  and  eleven  lines  to  S.  Catter- 
ina,^  which  most  modem  tourists  leave  unvisited,  if,  in- 
deed, they  know  of  its  existence.  The  Campanile  of  St. 
Mark's  is  commonly  referred  to  as  graceless,  with  no 
merit  but  its  height.' 

But  the  vast  proportions  of  St.  Mark's  Place  and  the 
general  effect  of  the  magnificent  buildings  surrounding  it 
call  forth  lavish  praise.    Tourists  never  weary  of  describ- 
ing the  sights  on  the  Piazza.    Here  all  Venice  poured  out  to 
see  and  be  seen.    "In  the  evening,"  says  Dr.  Moore,  "there 
generally  is,  on  St.  Mark's  Place,  such  a  mixed  multitude 
of  Jews,  Turks,  and  Christians;  lawyers,  knaves,  and  pick- 
pockets;    mountebanks,     old     women,    and     physicians; 
women  of  quality,  with  masks;  strumpets  barefaced;  and,' 
in  short,  such  a  jumble  of  senators,  citizens,  gondoleers, 
and  people  of  every  character  and  condition,  that  your 
ideas  are  broken,  bruised,  and  dislocated  in  the  crowd,  in 
such  a  manner,  that  you  can  think,  or  reflect,  on  nothing ;  yet 
this  being  a  state  of  mind  which  many  people  are  fond  of, 
the  place  never  fails  to  be  well  attended,  and,  in  fine  weatheri 
numbers  pass  a  great  part  of  the  night  there.     When  the 
piazza  is  illuminated,  and  the  shops  in  the  adjacent  streets 
are  lighted  up,  the  whole  has  a  brilliant  effect,  and  as  it  is 
the  custom  for  the  ladies,  as  well  as  the  gentlemen,  to  fre- 
quent the  cassinos  and  coffee-houses  around,  the  Place  of 



St.  Mark  answers  all  the  purposes  of  either  Vauxhall  or 
Ranelagh."  * 

From  scenes  like  these,  so  unlike  the  merrymaking  in 
Northern  lands,  tourists  largely  made  up  their  estimate 
not  merely  of  Venice,  but  of  Italy  —  an  estimate  that  did 
scant  justice  to  much  of  the  serious  life  of  the  country.  But, 
as  for  Venice,  since  the  Carnival  amusements  lasted  half  the 
year,2  strangers  might  be  pardoned  for  inferring  that  the 
inhabitants  had  little  of  serious  import  to  occupy  them. 


Some  of  the  cities  already  considered  possessed  remark- 
able attractions,  and  the  same  is  true  of  several  other  cities 
in  the  low  country  north  of  the  Apennines  and  drained  by 
the  Po.  But  for  most  of  these  we  can  spare  but  a  word ;  for 
some,  not  even  that. 

Piacenza  and  Cremona  deserved  more  attention  than 
they  commonly  received.  But  travelers  not  infrequently 
made  an  effort  to  see  the  tower  of  the  cathedral  of 
Cremona  which  was  famous  as  the  loftiest  in  Italy.  When 
traveling  on  the  old  ^Emilian  Way  from  Piacenza  to  Bo- 
logna and  beyond,  tourists  were  unlikely  to  neglect  Parma, 
which  for  its  social  and  other  attractions  was  one  of  the 
most  popular  cities  of  Italy  in  the  eighteenth  centtu-y. 
Nugent  counted  the  theater  at  Parma  as  the  finest  in  the 
world.  Tourists  gave  much  attention  to  the  art  treasvires 
of  Parma,  and  in  particiilar  to  the  masterpieces  of  Correggio 
in  the  cathedral.  Reggio  and  Modena  detained  for  a  time 
the  leisurely  tourist  —  Modena  being  celebrated  up  to  1745 
for  its  collection  of  Italian  masters,  sold  in  that  year  to 
become  the  glory  of  the  Dresden  Gallery.  But  for  a  pro- 
tracted stay  neither  city  could  rival  Bologna.  To  Bologna 
we  shall  come  in  a  moment. 

Meanwhile,  we  must  glance  at  one  city  on  the  east  side 
of  Italy  in  which  most  travelers  were  likely  to  lodge  for  at 
least  a  night,  and  that  city  was  Ferrara.  But  for  Ferrara 
few  eighteenth-century  travelers  have  any  praise.    Sump- 



tuous  though  many  of  the  ancient  palaces  were  that  had 
once  been  the  pride  of  Italy,  the  broad,  ill-paved  streets, 
grass-grown  and  neglected,  and  the  general  air  of  poverty, 
affected  the  tourist  with  melancholy.^  Misson  described, 
it  as  "  so  poor  and  desolate  that  it  cannot  be  viewed  without 
compassion."  2  Breval  counted  it,  "next  to  Pisa,  the 
worst  inhabited  fine  town"  he  ever  saw.  Baron  von 
Archenholz  suggested  that  it  might  be  well  to  write  on  the 
gates,  "This  town  is  to  be  let,"  and  Mrs.  Piozzi  says  that 
she  was  on  the  point  of  praising  it  for  its  cleanliness,  till  she 
"reflected  that  there  was  nobody  to  dirty  it.  I  looked  half 
an  hour  before  I  could  find  one  beggar  —  a  bad  accotmt  of 
poor   Ferrara!"' 

Visitors  at  Ferrara  complained  of  the  bad  water;*  of 
the  swarms  of  hungry  mosquitoes  that  devoured  them  by 
day  and  by  night;  of  the  noxious  exhalations  from  the 
lowlands  about  the  city;  of  the  canals  that  were  choked 
and  abandoned.^  Matters  have  much  improved  in  our 
time,  but  even  yet  Ferrara  is  one  of  the  cities  that  most 
travelers  leave  with  more  pleasure  than  regret. 

On  the  way  to  or  from  Florence  one  commonly  visited 
Bologna,  which  was  counted  "the  finest  and  most  wealthy 
city  in  the  whole  ecclesiastical  state."  ®  Dr.  Moore,  in- 
deed, goes  so  far  as  to  say  that,  "next  to  Rome  itself, 
there  is  perhaps  no  town  in  the  world  so  rich  as  Bologna."  ' 
Among  Italian  cities  Bologna  had  an  enviable  reputation 
for  culture  and  for  coiu-tesy  to  strangers.  The  university 
was  thought  by  tourists  to  justify  a  visit  to  the  city  even 
if  they  took  no  accoimt  of  other  attractions.  But  these 
were  not  small.  De  Brosses  preferred  on  the  whole  the 
palaces  of  Bologna  to  those  of  Florence.^  In  our  day 
the  art  treasures  of  Bologna,  with  one  or  two  striking  ex- 
ceptions, are  counted  of  secondary  importance,  but  in  the 
eighteenth  century  the  works  of  the  Caracci  and  of  Guido 
Reni  drew  forth  warm  appreciation  from  tourists.  Mar- 
iana Starke  even  maintains  that  one  of  Annibale  Caracci 's 
pictures  "may  vie  with  the  finest  productions  of  Raffaelle, 
while  it  surpasses  them  all  in  beauty  of  coloring."  ^ 



The  people  of  wealth  and  quality  were  notable  for 
the  zeal  with  which  they  studied  French  literature  and 
followed  French  fashions.'  But  the  Germans  had  also 
their  admirers;  and  there  were  two  factions,  one  de- 
voted to  the  French,  the  other  to  the  Germans.^ 

What  we  have  noted  elsewhere  as  characteristic  of 
Italian  manners  at  the  theater  was  very  marked  at  Bo- 
logna. Chatter  went  on  steadily  throughout  the  opera. 
Ladies  conversed  in  loud  tones  with  their  friends  in  the 
boxes  on  the  opposite  side,  even  shouting  to  make  them- 
selves heard.  When  they  applauded  they  stood,  clap- 
ping their  hands  and  crying,  "Bravo!  Bravo!"  ^  There 
was  no  lack  of  society  or  other  entertainment  for  such 
strangers  as  cared  for  it,  though  there  was  nothing 
so  distinctive  about  the  assemblies  of  Bologna  as  to 
call  for  special  comment  here. 


We  must  move  on  to  Florence,  which  throughout  the 
eighteenth  century  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  agree- 
able cities  in  Europe,  and  one  of  the  three  or  four  cities  of 
Italy  that  every  tourist  must  visit.  Florence  has  in  some 
measure  retained  in  our  own  day  the  peculiar  charm 
that  it  had  a  century  and  a  half  ago,  though  iconoclasts 
have  demolished  the  picturesque  walls  and  towers  that 
once  encircled  the  city,  and  modernized  and  vulgarized 
more  than  one  exquisite  survival  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Eighteenth-century  Florence  in  its  external  aspect  was 
still  largely  medieval,^  with  Renaissance  additions.  In  a 
quiet  way  one  could  spend  considerable  time  very  de- 
lightfully at  Florence.  The  city  had  no  more  than  seventy 
thousand  inhabitants  within  the  walls,^  but  no  other 
Italian  city  except  Rome  offered  so  much  that  was  worth 
seeing.  The  surrounding  country,  too,  was  a  perpetual 
invitation  to  drive  or  to  walk.  Fiesole,  with  its  wondcrftd 
views  across  the  valley  of  the  Amo,  made  an  attractive 
outing  for  any  clear  day.    All  about  Florence  the  scenery, 



though  not  tame  or  flat,  had  that  exquisite  finish  which 
especially  appealed  to  men  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
The  people  of  Tuscany,  too,  with  their  soft  voices,  their 
unaffected  good  nature,  and  their  obliging  manners,  made 
the  stay  of  the  tourist  doubly  agreeable. 

Tuscany,  with  Florence  as  its  chief  city,  enjoyed  far 
more  prosperity  than  most  parts  of  Italy.  The  inhab- 
itants were  industrious  and  strove  to  get  on  in  the  world. 
Most  travelers  remark  upon  the  thrift  of  the  Floren- 
tine nobility,  who  did  not  disdain  to  add  to  their  incomes 
by  selling  their  own  wines  at  retail.  As  a  sign  they  hung 
out  an  empty  flask  at  the  court  gates  or  from  one  of  the 
palace  windows.^  Keysler  even  says  that  "a  nobleman 
often  condescends  to  measure  out  a  yard  or  half  a  yard 
of  silk  without  any  regret."  ^ 

Although  taxes  bore  somewhat  heavily  upon  the  people,^ 
living  was  inexpensive  —  or  at  least  seemed  so  to  Eng- 
lishmen. Sharp  notes  that  "house  rent  at  Florence  is 
still  cheaper  than  at  Venice";^  and  Mariana  Starke  says 
that  "noble  houses,  unfurnished,  may  be  hired  by  the 
year  for,  comparatively  speaking,  nothing."  ^  On  the 
other  hand,  she  remarks:  "Good  private  lodgings  are 
dear,  unless  travellers  find  their  own  plate  and  linen, 
in  which  case  handsome  houses  may  be  hired  for  about 
ten  sequins  a  month."  ^  At  this  rate  the  rent  of  a  fine 
house  would  cost  about  three  hundred  and  fifteen  dollars 
a  year.  We  may  observe  that  Sir  Horace  Mann  leased 
the  Casa  Manetti  in  the  Fondaccio  of  Santo  Spirito  for 
a  rent  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  scudi  annually,  and 
occupied  it  from  1740  until  his  death  in  1786.  It  was  in 
this  house  that   Horace  Walpole  visited   Mann. 

Food  was  cheap  enough:  "Price  per  head  for  breakfast, 
at  a  coffee-house,  half  a  paul  —  price  per  head  for  dinner, 
at  a  Traiteur's,  three  pauls,  bread  and  wine  inclusive. 
There  is  a  German  Traiteur  who  sends  a  dinner  to  your 
own  house  at  four  pauls  a  head."  '  Another  item  is  sig- 
nificant: "A  sedan-chair  to  the  opera-house  and  back 
again  usually  costs  three  pauls;  and  to  pay  a  morning 



visit,  somewhat  less;  but  it  is  always  necessary  to  make 
the  bargain  beforehand."  ^ 

English  travelers,  with  their  keen  instinct  for  personal 
comfort,  early  discovered  these  and  other  advantages 
offered  by  Florence,  and  many  chose  it  for  a  long  stay.^ 
What  peculiarly  commended  it  to  them  was  its  homd- 
like  character  —  even  though  it  was  so  strangely  unlike 
an  English  city.  Of  testimonies  in  praise  of  Florence  there 
is  a  long  array,  but  we  can  afford  space  for  no  more  than 
two  or  three.  The  estimate  of  Breval,  as  a  traveler  by 
profession,  is  entitled  to  much  consideration:  "Florence," 
says  he,  "is  the  City  of  the  World,  next  to  Rome,  where 
a  Dilettante  may  best  entertain  himself.  I  once  pass'd 
the  best  Part  of  a  Summer  here;  and  another  time  an 
whole  Winter,  yet  was  scarce  a  Day  without  seeing  some- 
thing that  was  in  some  measure  new  to  me."  ^  Horace 
Walpole,  whose  eulogies  were  seldom  excessive,  pro- 
nounced it  in  1740  "infinitely  the  most  agreeable  of 
all  the  places  he  had  seen  since  London";^  and  he  spent 
fifteen  months  there.  Years  afterward  it  remained  for 
him  "the  loveliest  town  on  earth."  ^  Even  the  censorious 
Dr.  Sharp  wrote  in  one  of  his  letters,  "Florence,  in  our 
judgment,  will  be  preferred  to  all  the  other  cities  of  Italy 
as  a  place  of  residence."  ^ 

Time  seldom  hung  heavily  at  Florence.  Besides  the 
pleasure  of  roaming  through  the  old  streets  ^  and  occa- 
sionally picking  up  a  bargain  at  a  pictiu-e  dealer's  or  at  a 
bookstall,  there  were  the  opportunities  to  visit  the  sump- 
tuous palaces  of  the  nobility  with  their  wealth  of  Re- 
naissance frescoes ;  there  were  notable  churches  —  Santa 
Maria  Novella  and  Or  San  Michele  and  Santa  Croce  and 
a  score  of  others;  there  were  Giotto's  Campanile  and  the 
wonderful  bronze  doors  of  the  Baptistery  and  the  statues 
of  the  Loggia  dei  Lanzi,  and,  as  the  crowning  glory  of 
all,  there  were  the  picture  galleries,  unsiirpassed  in  Italy. 
Even  then  gleamed  from  the  walls  of  the  Tribuna  the 
pictures  that  are  still  the  choicest  treasures  of  the  UfBzi; 
and  in  the  Tribuna  the  exquisite  Venus  de'  Medici  stood 



as  coyly  as  she  stands  to-day.  Even  then  Raphael's 
Leo  X  and  Madonna  della  Seggiola  and  the  masterpieces 
of  Andrea  del  Sarto  could  be  viewed  in  the  gorgeous 
apartments  of  the  Pitti  Palace.^ 

Tourists  rightly  counted  these  galleries  sufficient  in 
themselves  to  repay  the  trouble  of  a  journey  to  Florence. ^ 
One  has,  indeed,  a  strange  feeling  of  kinship  with  the 
tourists  of  a  century  or  more  ago  in  reading  accounts 
of  what  they  saw  and  did  at  Florence.  The  following 
passage  might  have  been  written  yesterday:  "I  have, 
generally,"  says  Dr.  Moore,  "since  our  arrival  at  Florence, 
passed  two  hours  every  forenoon  in  the  famous  gallery. 
Connoisseurs,  and  those  who  wish  to  be  thought  such, 
remain  much  longer.  But  I  plainly  feel  this  is  enough 
for  me."  ^ 

If  pressed  for  time,  the  tourist  could  easily  find  a  guide 
to  show  him  the  sights  of  the  city.  Here,  as  at  Rome  and 
Venice,  there  was  a  certain  round  of  things  to  do  that 
was  in  a  sense  obligatory. 

Besides  viewing  the  ordinary  sights  of  Florence,  tourists 
of  social  position  commonly  saw  something  of  the  society 
there.  There  was  at  Florence  little  of  the  wild  whirl  of 
Parisian  society,  but  there  was  much  social  gayety,  par- 
ticularly in  the  form  of  conversazioni.  Mann  in  1769, 
after  an  experience  of  nearly  thirty  years,  speaks  with 
contempt  of  the  dull  weariness  and  insipidity  of  these 
entertainments,^  but  as  English  envoy  he  was  bound  to 
attend  them  and  to  give  them  himself.  One  of  his  chief 
duties,  indeed,  was  to  introduce  his  countrymen  to  Flor- 
entine society.  Nor  was  this  difficult.  "The  nobility  of 
Florence,"  says  Northall,  "are  in  general  very  civil  to 
foreigners;  and  there  are  a  great  many  fine  ladies  among 
them."  ^  Hospitality  of  the  more  solid  English  type, 
indeed,  was  rare.  Card  assemblies,  with  light  refresh- 
ments —  tea,  coffee,  lemonade  and  ices  —  were  the  rule. 
And  although  by  endless  repetition  these  festivities  might 
pall  on  a  man  past  middle  life,  they  made  a  pleasant 
break  in  the  round  of  the  tourist  who  had  nothing  to  oc- 



cupy  his  evenings.  "The  societies  at  Florence,"  says 
De  La  Lande,  "are  agreeable  and  easy;  it  is  one  of  the 
cities  of  Italy  where  strangers  find  most  pleasure.  .  .  . 
One  sees  no  jealousy  there.  Strangers  are  received  by 
everybody";^  and  "with  more  frankness  and  familiar- 
ity" than  is  customary  in  public  assemblies  in  other 
parts  of  Italy.  ^  Yet  this  freedom  had  not  been  character- 
istic of  the  century  just  preceding.  Misson  speaks  of  the 
uneasiness  of  the  English  Resident  "under  the  intolerable 
constraint  and  eternal  ceremonies  of  this  place,"  and 
also  of  "the  invisibility  of  the  fair  sex."  ' 

In  the  eighteenth  century  many  Italians  of  rank  at 
Florence  had  a  peculiarly  unsavory  reputation  for  gross 
debauchery.^  This  does  not,  however,  appear  to  have 
prevented  them  from  being  agreeable  in  society,^  for  it 
was  the  fashion  to  give  considerable  attention  to  the 
lighter  forms  of  ctdture.  Educated  Florentines  knew 
not  only  Italian  literature,  but,  particularly  in  the  second 
half  of  the  century,  were  fairly  well  acquainted  with 
English  and  French.^  They  kept  their  minds  busy  in  a 
small  way  most  of  the  time  and  combined  sociability 
with  mild  forms  of  intellectual  activity, —  about  as  im- 
portant as  the  guessing  of  charades.  "The  gentlemen 
of  Florence,"  says  Wright,  "are  very  sociable  in  a  sober 
way.  They  have  a  nightly  assembly  in  a  house  they 
have  taken  for  that  purpose,  where  the  several  apart- 
ments are  ascertain'd  for  play  or  conversation.  There 
are  persons  attending  to  furnish  iced  liquors,  coffee, 
etc.  From  hence  they  go,  some  to  the  ladies'  assemblies, 
and  card  tables,  some  to  the  academies  of  the  Virtuosi, 
of  which  there  are  two:  one  entitled  DeUa  Crusca,  and 
the  other  known  by  the  general  name  of  I'Academia 
Fiorentina.  We  were  present  one  night  at  the  latter: 
the  exercise  began  with  a  recital  of  epigrams,  and  other 
little  poems,  some  in  Italian,  some  in  Latin,  and  they 
were  as  eager  who  should  repeat  first,  as  the  boys  are  at 
the  Westminster  election  with  their  extempore  verses. 
Then  succeeds  a  performance  of  another  kind.    A  question 



is  put.  One  whom  they  call  the  sibyl  makes  answer  to 
it  in  one  word,  and  that  a  disproposito  (as  they  call  it); 
somewhat  that  seems  foreign  to  the  purpose:  then  the 
expositors  of  the  sibyl  are  to  reconcile  this  disproposito 
answer  to  the  question  given;  as  for  example,  a  question 
was  put,  Whether  'tis  more  wholesome  to  sleep  much  or 
little  ?  —  The  sibyl  answer'd  Sugar.  The  expositor  added, 
—  As  sugar  is  differently  proportioned  to  suit  with  differ- 
ent tastes,  so  is  sleep,  to  suit  with  different  constitu- 
tions: some  requiring  more,  some  less.  2.  Why  Myopes 
(the  short-sighted)  hold  the  object  'near,  Preshytcs  (the 
old)  hold  it  at  a  distance?  Sibyl:  Hair. —  The  expositor 
compar'd  a  lock  of  hair  to  the  assemblage  of  capilla- 
ments  or  fibres  in  the  optick  nerve;  whose  expansion 
within  the  bottom  of  the  eye  makes  the  tunica  retina; 
then  he  went  on  to  explain  how  the  image  of  an  object 
is  formed  on  the  retina,  in  the  convex  eye,  and  the  fiat 
eye,  in  the  usual  way."  ^ 

For  most  English  guests  a  little  of  this  childishness 
wotdd  be  more  than  enough.  And  repeated  experiences 
with  this  form  of  entertainment  might  well  prompt  such 
a  remark  as  Walpole  in  1746  puts  into  a  letter  to  Horace 
Mann:  "I  agree  to  the  happiness  of  living  in  Florence, 
but  I  am  sure  knowledge  was  not  one  of  its  recommen- 
dations, which  never  was  anywhere  at  a  lower  ebb."  ^ 

Like  all  the  larger  cities  of  Italy,  Florence  had  a  regular 
season  of  opera.^  One  thing  insisted  on  was,  however, 
that  the  music  should  not  interfere  with  conversation. 
There  was  a  continual  exchange  of  compliments  in  loud 
tones,  and  a  continual  moving  from  one  side  of  the 
theater  to  the  other  throughout  the  performance.  Only 
the  dancers  might  count  upon  receiving  any  attention 
from  the  audience. 

During  their  stay  at  Florence  most  English  tourists, 
with  no  great  effort,  unquestionably  learned  much  of 
lasting  value,  yet  the  seductive  charm  of  the  place  made 
the  life  of  many  who  sojourned  there  little  more  than  a 
round  of  pleasure.     The  poet  Gray  and  his  companion 



Walpole  give  some  indication  in  letters  to  West  of  how 
time  was  spent.  Writing  from  Florence  in  Jtdy,  1740, 
Gray  says:  "If  you  choose  to  be  annihilated  too,  you 
cannot  do  better  than  undertake  this  journey.  Here 
you  shall  get  up  at  twelve  o'clock,  breakfast  till  three, 
dine  till  five,  sleep  till  six,  drink  cooling  liquors  till  eight, 
go  to  the  bridge  till  ten,  sup  till  two,  and  so  sleep  till 
twelve  again."  ^  And  Walpole  in  his  turn:  "You  would 
be  as  much  amazed  at  us  as  at  any  thing  you  saw :  instead  of 
being  deep  in  the  liberal  arts,  and  being  in  the  Gallery 
every  morning,  as  I  thought  of  course  to  be  sure  I  would 
be,  we  are  in  all  the  idleness  and  amusements  of  the  town."  ^ 
After  fifty  years  of  absence  Horace  Walpole  still  looked 
back  with  fond  recollection  to  "the  delicious  nights  on 
the  Ponte  di  Trinita  at  Florence,  in  a  linen  night-gown 
and  a  straw  hat,  with  improvisatori,  and  music,  and  the 
coffee-houses  open  with  ices."  ^ 

With  this  catalogue  of  occupations  before  us,  we  are 
prepared  for  Gray's  confession  to  West  in  a  letter  of  1741 : 
"Eleven  months,  at  different  times,  have  I  passed  at  Flor- 
ence; and  yet  (God  help  me)  know  not  either  people 
or  language."  *  But  we  may  well  believe  that  the  record 
of  most  tourists  was  less  satisfactory  than  Gray's. 

Whether  for  amusement  or  for  earnest  self -improvement, 
Florence  was  throughout  the  eighteenth  century,  in 
ever  increasing  measure,  a  favorite  resort  for  tourists 
and  a  center  for  excursions.  In  the  region  about  Florence 
the  celebrated  abbey  of  Vallombrosa,  with  its  forests 
of  chestnuts,  beeches,  and  firs,  offered  an  easy  excursion 
that  might  occupy  three  or  four  days,  and  in  the  eighteenth 
century  it  was  often  visited;  for,  as  Horace  Walpole 
says,  "  Milton  has  made  everybody  wish  to  have  seen  it."  ^ 
Walpole  himself,  however,  confessed  that  though  he  was 
many  months  at  Florence  he  "never  did  see  it.  In  fact," 
says  he,  "I  was  so  tired  of  seeing  when  I  was  abroad,  that 
I  have  several  of  these  pieces  of  repentance  on  my  con- 
science, when  they  come  into  my  head."  ^  And  Wal- 
pole is  a  type  of  hundreds  of  other  tourists. 



Hardly  less  attractive  in  our  day  appears  the  excursion 
to  the  monasteries  of  Camaldoli  and  La  Vema,  but  most 
eighteenth-century  tourists  could  hardly  appreciate  the 
wild  charm  of  the  scenery,  and  at  all  events  did  not  flock 
thither  in  great  numbers. 


Although,  as  we  have  seen,  many  tourists  approached 
Florence  from  Bologna,  those  who  followed  the  sea  route 
to  Italy  commonly  disembarked  at  Leghorn  and  went 
through  Pisa  and  Lucca  to  the  Tuscan  capital.  The  most 
notable  port  on  the  west  coast  of  Italy  was  Leghorn.  Eng- 
lish merchants  were  there  with  their  families  in  considerable 
numbers,  and  English  ships  carried  on  a  flourishing  trade. 
The  population  rose  from  forty-four  thousand  in  1767  to 
fifty-eight  thousand  in  1781,  about  one  sixth  of  whom 
were  Jews.  Northall  says,  indeed,  that  Leghorn  "has  al- 
most unpeopled  Pisa,  if  we  compare  it  to  what  it  was  for- 
merly, and  every  day  lessens  the  number  of  inhabitants  at 
Florence."  ^ 

Owing  to  their  skill  as  traders  the  English  held  the  fore- 
most place  among  the  foreigners  at  Leghorn,  their  chief 
rivals  being  the  Dutch.  As  early  as  1730  there  were  thirty- 
six  resident  English  families  out  of  a  population  of  about 
forty  thousand,^  and  they  were  greatly  respected.  The 
constant  communication  with  England  made  Leghorn  a 
convenient  port  of  entry  and  departure  for  those  English 
tourists  who  did  not  object  to  a  long  sea  voyage.  And  since 
at  Leghorn  they  found  many  of  the  inhabitants  speaking 
English  tolerably  well,  they  felt  at  once  at  home.  But 
apart  from  commercial  interests  there  was  little  to  tempt 
strangers  to  remain  long,  and  they  moved  on  to  other  cities. 

Those  who  sought  quiet  found  it,  if  anywhere,  at  Pisa. 
Once  a  powerful  city  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  in- 
habitants, Pisa  was  reduced  in  the  eighteenth  century  to 
be  a  provincial  town  of  a  tenth  its  former  size.  The  low 
situation  upon  the  river  Arno  was  thought  to  render  "its 



air  very  unwholesome  and  obnoxious  to  strangers."  Hun- 
dreds of  houses  stood  empty,  and  grass  grew  in  the  streets. 
The  Earl  of  Cork  and  Orrery  wrote  in  1754:  "In  my  last 
I  told  you,  that  we  had  thoughts  of  settling  here.  It  is  im- 
possible. If  either  house,  victuals,  or  even  necessaries  were 
to  be  had  in  Pisa,  we  should  be  glad  to  remain  in  this  city; 
but  in  its  present  state,  cameleons  only  can  inhabit  it. 
Horses  indeed  may  graze  and  fatten  in  the  streets.  Human 
creatures,  unless  they  are  Italians,  cannot  find  lodgings  or 
subsistence."  ^ 

Not  till  the  closing  years  of  the  eighteenth  century  did  the 
increase  of  trade  and  population  banish  the  desolation  that 
hung  like  a  pall  over  the  city.  Early  in  the  nineteenth 
century  more  than  one  English  family  selected  Pisa  as  a 
favorite  abode.  The  Shelley s  were  exceedingly  fond  of  the 
place ;  and  here  Byron  took  a  house  and  shared  it  with  Leigh 
Hunt  and  his  overflowing  family. 

But  even  in  its  lowest  depression  tourists  visited  Pisa  in 
considerable  numbers.  Evelyn  thought  the  city  "as  much 
worth  seeing  as  any  in  Italy."  ^  In  the  opinion  of  De 
Brosses  there  were  nowhere  else  to  be  found  within  so 
small  a  space  four  things  handsomer  than  the  four  at  Pisa 
—  the  Campo  Santo,  the  cathedral,  the  Baptistery,  and  the 
Leaning  Tower.  Especially  does  he  count  the  cathedral 
a  noble  and  beautiful  church.^  But  eighteenth-century 
English  travelers  were  inclined  to  speak  slightingly  of  Pisa. 
Clenche  says  that  "it  has  nothing  else  remarkable  except 
the  Camposanto."  ^  The  Earl  of  Cork  and  Orrery  finds 
the  Cathedral  "dark  and  gloomy,  .  .  .  disgustful  to  the 
eye  upon  the  first  entrance  into  it."  ^  Pisa  was,  indeed,  so 
generally  neglected  or  inadequately  treated  by  English  trav- 
elers in  their  accounts  that  Mariana  Starke  at  the  end  of 
the  eighteenth  century  offers  that  as  her  excuse  for  giving 
"rather  a  minute  description  of  the  city,"  ^  which  we  need 
not  reproduce. 

But  we  must  spare  a  few  words  for  Lucca.  The  little  city 
of  Lucca  had  the  reputation  of  being  very  civil  to  strangers 
and  also  of  being  very  cheap.    Moreover,  the  Italian  spoken 



there  was  unusually  pure.  Add  to  these  attractions  the 
works  of  art  and  architecture  within  the  walls,  the  beauti- 
ful promenade  round  the  ramparts,  and  the  charming  coun- 
try surrounding  the  city,  and  one  can  understand  why 
travelers  often  preferred  Lucca  to  Florence  itself.  Most 
of  the  gentlemen  of  Lucca  spoke  French  in  Misson's  day, 
and  the  ladies  were  "not  so  invisible  as  in  several  other 
parts  of  Italy."  i  Numerous  quaint  customs  persisted. 
"Strangers  never  fail,"  says  Keysler,  "to  be  welcomed  here 
with  an  evening  serenade,  which  is  accompanied  with  an 
humble  intimation  that  they  would  be  pleased  to  make  some 
returns  for  such  an  honour."  ^ 

One  is  tempted  to  enlarge  upon  the  charms  of  Lucca  and 
its  environs,  including  the  famous  Baths;  to  touch  upon 
other  cities  like  Prato,  Pistoia,  and  Arezzo,  with  their 
notable  works  of  art,  but  it  is  time  to  follow  the  tourist  on 
his  way  down  to  Rome.^ 

The  first  place  of  any  importance  after  leaving  Florence 
was  Siena.  This  was  an  exceptionally  attractive  little 
city,  prevailingly  medieval  in  its  architectiu-e,  and  counting 
eighteen  or  twenty  thousand  inhabitants."  Living  at 
Siena  was  very  inexpensive;  the  people  were  "learned, 
amiable,  and  remarkably  kind  to  f oreigners " ;  ^  besides 
being  reputed  brilliant  conversationalists.^  The  town  was 
"also  famous  for  the  piu-ity  of  the  Italian  tongue,  which," 
says  Nugent,  "is  spoken  here  without  that  guttural  pro- 
nunciation so  disagreeable  in  the  Florentines.  For  this 
reason  a  great  many  foreigners  choose  to  reside  here  some 
time  to  learn  the  language  rather  than  at  Florence,  where 
it  is  badly  pronounced,  or  at  Rome,  where  you  have  too 
much  hurry  and  noise."  ^ 

Notably  enough,  most  visitors  to  Siena  lay  aside  their 
usual  prejudice  against  Gothic  architecture  long  enough 
to  praise  the  cathedral  as  an  architectural  monument  of 
the  greatest  magnificence.  De  La  Lande  says  that  "one 
could  view  it  with  pleasure  even  after  having  seen  St. 
Peter's."  «  A  typical  estimate  is  Breval's:  "The  most  re- 
markable thing  we  meet  with  at  Siena  is  the  Dome;  of  a 



Gothic  Stile  indeed,  but  very  beautiful  in  its  kind,  and 
would  be  still  more  so  in  my  Opinion,  were  the  Marble  all 
of  one  Colour."  ^  It  is  interesting  to  observe  that  even 
before  1700  the  unique  inlaid  pavement  of  the  cathedral 
was  so  esteemed  that  portions  of  it  were  "covered  with 
boards  to  preserve  it."  ^  Travelers  rarely  fail  to  mention 
this  pavement  as  one  of  the  most  beautiful  works  of  art  to 
be  seen  in  Italy. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  wonderfully  picturesque  com- 
munal palace,  with  its  many  works  of  medieval  art,  is  dis- 
missed by  Keysler  as  "scarce  worth  seeing,"  ^  and  by  De 
Brosses  as  "an  old  building  which  has  nothing  recom- 
mendable,  or  at  least  curious,  except  some  paintings  still 
more  antique  and  more  ugly  than  itself."  ^  Tourists  of  the 
eighteenth  century  were  certainly  not  prepared  to  do  full 
justice  to  a  medieval  city  like  Siena,  but  the  charm  of  the 
place  insensibly  stole  into  the  spirit  of  more  than  one  who 
sojourned  there,  and  contributed  in  its  measure  to  the  revo- 
lution in  taste  that  slowly  worked  itself  out  before  the  end 
of  the  century. 

The  journey  from  Siena  to  Rome  was  not  wholly  de- 
lightful, though  tourists  were  loud  in  their  praise  of  the 
country  as  far  as  Buonconvento.  Most  of  the  inns  were 
bad.  Tourists  were  advised  to  take  wine  and  water  at 
Siena  for  the  rest  of  the  way,  "both  being  excellent  here 
and  unwholesome  in  the  succeeding  towns."  ^  At  Acqua- 
pendente  the  "first  lascia  passare  used  to  be  demanded," 
and  if  the  tourist  happened  not  to  have  one  his  "baggage 
underwent  a  very  unpleasant  examination."  ^  The  route 
passed  through  Viterbo,  but  hurried  travelers  commonly 
ignored  the  ancient  city  and  even  the  exqiiisite  Villa  Lante 
in  the  environs. 

Rome  was  reached  by  crossing  the  pestilential  and 
dreaded  Campagna.  To  spend  the  night  on  this  vast,  un- 
wholesome plain  was  thought  to  be  hazardous  for  strangers,' 
and,  accordingly,  the  wayside  inns,  from  lack  of  patron- 
age, were  of  the  poorest  type,  even  when  measured  by 
Italian  standards.    When  Sharp  went  to  Rome,  "we  found 



it  necessary,"  says  he,  "to  keep  our  post-horses  all  night 
at  a  shabby  inn,  half-way  to  the  post-house  before  you 
arrive  slx,  the  Campania,  as  preferring  dirty  beds  and 
dirty  provisions,  to  no  beds,  no  provisions,  and  a  sup- 
posed pestilential  climate,"  ^ 


Unquestioned  as  the  claim  of  Paris  was  to  preeminence 
in  matters  of  fashion  and  taste,  even  Paris  was,  to  most 
tourists,  in  the  variety  of  its  attractions,  not  in  the  same 
class  with  Rome;  and  at  certain  seasons,  particularly 
Carnival  and  Holy  Week,  Rome  was  alive  with  English 
sight-seers.  Writing  from  Venice,  January  20,  1758,  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu  says,  "I  hear  Rome  is  crammed 
with  Britons.  I  suppose  we  shall  see  them  all  in  their 
turns."  2  De  Brosses  incidentally  remarks  upon  "the 
English,  with  whom  Rome  is  always  filled."  ^  And  Lady 
Knight,  writing  in  1778,  says,  "There  are  many  English 
here,  and  many  more  are  expected  for  the  Holy  Week."* 
In  a  later  letter  she  remarks:  "The  English  are  birds  of 
passage,  most  of  them  have  taken  their  flight,  but  when  I 
first  came  we  have  been  sixty  together  of  an  evening."  ^ 
Fourteen  years  later  she  writes,  "We  have  had  a  hundred 
and  fifty  English  here  this  spring."  ^ 

They  felt  doubly  at  home  there,  for,  as  Ray  already  in 
the  seventeenth  century  remarked,  "The  inhabitants  .  ,  . 
approach  nowadays,  in  their  fiunitures  and  some  of  their 
manners  and  customs,  more  to  the  English  than  any  of  the 
Italians  besides";  ^  and  this  penchant  for  things  English 
became  far  more  pronounced  in  the  course  of  the  eight- 
eenth century.  At  Rome,  more  than  in  most  Continental 
cities,  the  English  were  able  to  get  the  things  they  required. 
There  was  even  an  English  coffee-house  where  they  could 
see  English  newspapers  and  meet  their  fellow  countr5nmen, 
particularly  artists.^  Sharp  commends  the  English  students 
of  painting  and  sculpture  at  Rome  as  "a  remarkable  set  of 
sober,  modest  men,  who  by  their  decorum,  and  friendly 



manner  of  living  amongst  one  another,  do  credit  to  their 
profession."  * 

With  the  flood  of  English  tourists  it  was  no  easy  matter 
to  escape  one's  fellow  countrymen  at  Rome.  They  lodged 
in  the  same  quarter  of  the  city,  they  went  to  see  the  same 
sights,  and  they  thus  constantly  crossed  one  another's 
paths.  But  tourists  were  not  limited  to  association  with 
their  own  countrymen.  One  cannot  say  that  all  doors 
stood  open  to  them,  but  in  general  they  were  very  freely 
received.  The  people  of  Rome  were  noted  for  their  cordial- 
ity,2  and  they  even  sought  out  strangers  who  had  been 
recommended  to  them  by  letters.'  The  ordinarily  fault- 
finding Sharp  finds  "the  politeness  of  the  Italians  towards 
our  nation  .  .  .  very  extraordinary."  *  James  Edward 
Smith  observes  that  the  "English  in  particular  meet  with 
the  kindest  attentions,  and  a  flattering  sort  of  deference, 
quite  distinct  from  French  cringing,  from  persons  of  all 
ranks."  *  Particularly  were  the  English  welcome  at  the 
palaces  of  the  nobility  and  of  the  cardinals.  Of  the  palace 
of  the  Princess  Borghese,  De  Brosses  remarks  that  it  is 
"the  ordinary  place  of  meeting  of  the  English,  who  are 
here  in  great  numbers,  most  of  them  very  rich."  ^ 

General  as  this  hospitality  was  at  Rome,  it  laid  no  heavy 
burden  of  expense  upon  the  host,  since  the  cost  of  the  eat- 
ables at  a  conversazione  was  but  a  trifle,  and  strangers  were 
rarely  if  ever  invited  to  meals '  or  to  participation  in  the 
inner  home  life.  Some  tourists,  perhaps  not  wholly  with- 
out reason,  attributed  the  frugality  of  the  Italian  type  of 
hospitality,  so  unlike  the  German  or  the  English,  to  mean- 
ness. But  it  is  worth  while  to  present  the  Italian  point  of 
view:  "Italians  prefer  to  build  a  great  palace,  to  collect 
pictures,  to  rear  a  lasting  monument  of  some  sort,  rather 
than  to  waste  incomes  none  too  large  in  the  expense  of 
trivial  entertainments."  * 

We  must  not  linger  upon  this  aspect  of  the  life  at  Rome, 
but  must  get  a  closer  view  of  the  city  itself  —  and  first  of 
some  of  its  obvious  defects.  In  the  Rome  of  a  century  and 
a  half  ago  there  were,  of  course,  fewer  brilliant  shops  than 



there  are  now;  the  hotels  were  far  less  pretentious;  the 
street  pavements  were  less  clean.  The  streets  where  the 
Pope  passed  through  were  swept,  the  others  never. ^  More- 
over, although  there  was  no  police  patrol  at  night,  the 
streets  were  not  lighted,  except  by  the  candles  and  lamps 
that  burned  before  the  madonnas,^  or  by  an  occasional 
lantern  at  the  corner  of  some  palace.  "But  in  many 
streets,"  says  Tivaroni,  "the  darkness  was  perfect,  and  the 
few  that  ventured  to  pass  through  the  streets  went  with 
lanterns  carried  by  themselves  or  by  well-armed  servants."  ' 

Defects  of  all  sorts  there  unquestionably  were,^  but  not- 
withstanding all  these  Rome  had  an  abiding  charm  and 
popularity.  Here,  if  anywhere,  the  tourist  was  awakened 
to  an  interest  in  ancient  art  and  architecture  and  the  his- 
tory of  the  great  past,  and  here  he  met  notable  people  from 
all  over  the  world.  In  Rome,  too,  his  morals  were  safer 
than  almost  anywhere  else.^  The  spell  of  the  Eternal  City 
worked  most  powerfully  upon  Englishmen  of  widest  cul- 
ture. For  them  Rome,  even  in  ruins,  was  still,  in  a  sense, 
the  august  capital  of  the  Empire,  and  still  the  mistress  of 
the  world. 

The  visitor  from  the  North  very  commonly  got  his  first 
sweeping  view  of  the  city  from  the  height  overlooking  the 
Vatican  and  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's  and  then  descended  the 
long  slope  to  the  usual  entrance.  "Most  English  gentle- 
men," says  Northall,  "enter  at  the  gate  of  Porta  del  Popolo 
in  post-chaises,  and  drive  down  the  Corso  to  the  Dogana,  or 
custom-house,  which  was  made  out  of  the  hall  of  Antoni- 
nus Pius.  ...  As  soon  as  they  arrive,  there  are  people  on 
purpose  who  attend  to  unload  the  baggage,  which  is  carried 
into  the  Dogana,  and  opened  by  proper  officers,  who  soon 
begin  to  tumble  the  things  about,  under  a  pretence  of 
searching  to  the  bottom  for  contraband  goods ;  but  a  small 
present  prevents  any  insolence  of  that  sort."  ® 

This  formality  over,  one  drove  without  delay  to  the 

strangers'  quarter — the  Piazza  di  Spagna^  and  the  streets 

leading   from  it.^     Here   were   the   principal   hotels    and 

lodging-houses   that  _ catered    to  English  tastes.^     Here, 



too,  were  the  banks  and  the  shops  especially  frequented 
by  Englishmen.  "  The  ambassador  of  Spain  at  Rome  exer- 
cised a  royal  jurisdiction  in  the  Piazza  di  Spagna  and  in  the 
neighborhood,  which  became  for  that  reason  the  safest  and 
quietest  quarters  of  the  city."  ^ 

Smollett  supplies  some  interesting  detail:  "Strangers 
that  come  to  Rome  seldom  put  up  at  public  inns,  but  go 
directly  to  lodging  houses,  ofj  which  there  is  great  plenty 
in  this  quarter.  The  Piazza  d'Espagna  is  open,  airy,  and 
pleasantly  situated  in  a  high  part  of  the  city  immediately 
under  the  Colle  ^  Pinciana,  and  adorned  with  two  fine 
fountains.  Here  most  of  the  English  reside :  the  apartments 
are  generally  commodious  and  well  furnished;  and  the 
lodgers  are  well  supplied  with  provisions  and  all  necessa- 
ries of  life.  But,  if  I  studied  economy,  I  would  choose 
another  part  of  the  town  than  the  Piazza  d'Espagna, 
which  is  besides  at  a  great  distance  from  the  antiquities."^ 

But  the  Piazza  di  Spagna  had  won  its  undisputed  posi- 
tion as  the  common  meeting-place  for  strangers.  "Here 
the  ladies,"  says  Northall,  "sit  at  their  ease  in  their  coaches, 
and  receive  the  homage  of  the  gentlemen  standing  at  their 
coach-doors.  Thus  an  hour  or  two  is  spent  every  evening, 
in  breathing  the  worst  air  in  Rome,  mixed  with  clouds  of 
dust,  pestered  with  beggars,  and  incommoded  by  coaches, 
which  press  forward  without  observing  rank  or  order."  ^ 

But  we  must  glance  at  other  features,  and  first  at  the 
size  of  the  Papal  capital.  A  century  and  a  half  ago  Rome 
was  a  city  of  only  about  170,000  inhabitants^  —  not  so 
large  as  to  be  oppressive  or  so  small  as  to  be  insignificant, 
though  it  occupied  only  a  portion  of  the  vast  area  enclosed 
by  the  walls  of  Aurelian.  In  the  seventeenth  centiu*y  Ray  ^ 
estimated  the  population  at  120,000  souls,  the  city  being 
surpassed  in  size  by  Venice,  Milan,  and  Naples.  The  Rome 
of  our  day  has  far  outgrown  the  modest  area  that  it  occu- 
pied in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  has  greatly  altered  in 
other  particulars.  Many  great  buildings  remain  sub- 
stantially the  same;  but,  unfortunately  for  the  artist  and 
the  lover  of  the  picturesque,  the  growth  of  the  city  within 



the  memory  of  men  still  comparatively  young  has  trans- 
formed the  setting  and  changed  the  entire  spirit  of  the 
place.  Modem  Rome  is  a  city  no  longer  dormant  and 
dreamy,  but  a  bustling  modem  capital.  The  site  of  more 
than  one  exquisite  villa,  with  its  ample  grounds,  has  been 
occupied  by  commonplace  and  pretentious  modem  apart- 
ment houses.  In  many  quarters  the  old  Papal  Rome  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  with  its  gorgeous  street  pageants 
and  its  grim  palaces  festooned  with  scarlet  and  gold,  has 
given  place  to  a  new  city,  more  prosperous  and  progres- 
sive, but  also  somewhat  more  vulgarized.  At  all  events, 
the  comparative  isolation  of  Rome,  as  it  was  before  the 
coming  of  the  railway  and  the  motor-car,  has  vanished 

How  agreeable  the  old  city  was  we  may  learn  from  a 
thousand  sources;  for  the  glamour  of  the  city  of  the  Cae- 
sars, with  its  half -destroyed  and  half -buried  monuments, 
stirred  the  imagination  of  even  the  average  tourist,  and 
led  him  to  record  his  impressions.  Nearly  all  the  travel- 
ers of  the  older  day  had  at  least  a  thin  veneer  of  clas- 
sical learning,  and  they  united  in  sounding  the  praises  of 
the  city  of  which  every  one  had  heard  since  the  days  of 

Visitors  of  every  type  found  the  city  attractive.  "Rome 
has  the  air  of  a  provincial  city,"  says  De  Brosses;  but, 
he  immediately  adds,  "I  do  not  know,  everything  con- 
sidered, whether  there  is  any  other  city  in  Europe  more 
agreeable,  more  comfortable,  and  that  I  would  rather 
live  in,  than  this,  not  even  excepting  Paris."  ^  Baretti 
cites  the  estimate  of  Middleton  that  "of  all  the  places 
he  has  ever  seen,  or  ever  shall  see,  .  .  .  Rome  is  by  far 
the  most  delightful,  because  travellers  there  find  them- 
selves accommodated  with  all  the  conveniences  of  life 
in  an  easy  manner;  because  of  the  general  civility  and 
respect  shown  to  strangers,  and  because  there  every 
man  of  prudence  is  sure  to  find  quiet  and  security."  ^ 

There  was,  indeed,  something  at  Rome  that  satisfied  al- 
most every  stranger.    The  antiquary  took  his  pleasure  in 



exploring  nuns;  the  artist  in  visiting  the  galleries  and  in 
sketching  groups  of  peasants  standing  beside  broken 
arches;  the  religious  pilgrim  in  haunting  famous  churches 
and  securing  an  audience  with  the  Pope ;  the  casual  stranger 
in  frequenting  conversazioni  and  balls;  and  the  historian  in 
studying  the  varied  fortunes  of  the  imperial  city.  Well 
might  Goethe  say:  "Of  the  four  months  I  have  spent 
in  Rome  not  a  moment  has  been  lost."  * 

It  is  true  that  Rome,  like  most  of  Italy,  presented 
singiilar  contradictions.  Mariana  Starke  remarks  upon 
the  great  buildings  and  the  treasures  of  art  that  "entitle 
her  to  be  called  the  most  magnificent  city  of  Europe." 
But  she  adds,  "her  streets,  nevertheless,  are  ill-paved 
and  dirty;  while  ruins  of  immense  edifices,  which  con- 
tinually meet  the  eye,  give  an  impression  of  melancholy 
to  every  thinking  spectator."  ^ 

Commerce  was  insignificant,  and  the  main  revenue  of 
the  inhabitants  was  derived  from  perfumery,  pomades, 
flowers,  pictures,  and  the  curiosity  of  strangers.^  In 
her  diminished  prosperity  Rome  shared  the  decay  of  all 
Italy,  and,  says  Dupaty,  had  more  beggars  than  any  other 

The  decline  of  imperial  Rome  was  a  favorite  theme  of 
eighteenth-century  poets,  as  it  had  been  for  generations 
before.^  And  the  ordinary  tourist  was,  in  this  matter, 
in  entire  accord  with  the  poets:  "A  man  on  his  first  arrival 
at  Rome,"  says  Dr.  Sharp,  "is  not  much  fired  with  its 
appearance;  the  narrowness  of  the  streets,  the  thinness 
of  the  inhabitants,  the  prodigious  quantity  of  monks 
and  beggars,  give  but  a  gloomy  aspect  to  this  renowned 
city.  There  are  no  rich  tradesmen  here,  who,  by  their 
acquisitions,  either  enoble  their  sons,  or  marry  their 
daughters  into  the  houses  of  princes.  All  the  shops  seem 
empty,  and  the  shop  keepers  poor;  not  one  hackney 
coach  in  so  large  a  town.  .  .  .  This  is  the  first  impression; 
but  turn  your  eye  from  that  point  of  view,  to  the  magni- 
ficence of  their  churches,  to  the  venerable  remains  of 
ancient  Rome,   to  the  prodigious  collection  of  pictures 



and  antique  statues,  .  ,  .  and,  with  a  very  few  grains 
of  enthusiasm  in  your  composition,  you  will  feel  more 
than  satisfied."  ^ 

Hazlitt's  reflections  in  1824  might  have  been  written  a 
century  earlier:  "In  Rome,  around  it,  nothing  strikes  the 
eye,  nothing  rivets  the  attention  but  ruins,  the  fragments 
of  what  has  been;  the  past  is  like  a  halo  forever  surround- 
ing and  obscuring  the  present!  Ruins  should  be  seen 
in  a  desert,  Hke  those  of  Palmyra,  and  a  pilgrimage  should 
be  made  to  them ;  but  who  would  take  up  his  abode  among 
tombs?  Or  if  there  be  a  country  and  men  in  it,  why 
have  they  nothing  to  shew  but  the  relics  of  antiquity, 
or  why  are  the  living  contented  to  crawl  about  like  worms, 
or  to  hover  like  shadows  in  the  monuments  of  the  dead? 
Every  object  he  sees  reminds  the  modem  Roman  that 
he  is  nothing  —  the  spirits  of  former  times  overshadow 
him,  and  dwarf  his  pigmy  efforts:  every  object  he  sees 
reminds  the  traveller  that  greatness  is  its  own  grave."  ^ 

Eighteenth-century  Rome  was,  indeed,  in  large  meas- 
ure a  survival  of  an  earlier  age.  Uninvaded  by  commer- 
cialism, it  was  hardly  touched  by  the  modem  spirit.  Of 
pubHc  opinion  there  was  scarcely  a  trace.  The  paternal 
hand  of  the  Papal  Government  was  everjrwhere  felt. 
But  the  real  objection  to  the  government  was  not  that 
it  was  Papal  but  that  it  was  sadly  inefficient.  Even  De 
Brosses,  who,  on  the  whole,  prefers  Rome  to  Paris,  says, 
"The  govemment  is  the  worst  possible.  Of  the  pop- 
ulation a  quarter  are  priests,  a  quarter  are  statues,  a 
quarter  are  people  who  do  nothing.  There  is  no  agricul- 
ture, no  commerce,  no  machinery,  in  the  midst  of  a  fertile 
country  and  on  a  navigable  river."  ^ 

Although  Rome  was,  above  everything  else,  a  Papal 
city  and  under  ecclesiastical  rule,  as  long  as  Protestant 
visitors  held  their  tongues  and  did  not  meddle  with  poli- 
tics, they  were  quite  undisturbed.  Even  in  the  seventeenth 
century  Ray  remarks  upon  the  tolerance  of  the  ItaHans: 
"They  do  also  shew  their  civility  to  strangers  in  not  so 
much  as  asking  them  what  religion  they  are  of,  avoiding 



all  unnecessary  disputes  about  that  subject,  which  are 
apt  to  engender  quarrels;  which  thing  we  could  not  but 
take  notice  of,  because  in  France  you  shall  scarce  ex- 
change three  words  with  any  man  before  he  asks  you  that 
question."  ^  And  a  close  observer  remarks  that  even  in 
the  Capella  Paolina,  affording  room  for  but  a  score  of 
visitors,  "Toleration  extends  here  so  far,  that  in  this  most 
solemn  service,  when  all  the  cardinals  and  the  pope  himself 
were  prostrate  before  the  altar,  some  Swiss  protestants  re- 
frained from  kneeling,  and  gave  no  offence . "  ^  At  all  events , 
Protestants  were  subjected  to  no  "rudeness  or  compulsion, 
which,  it  is  notorious,  is  practiced  in  the  chapel  at  Versailles. 
In  Lent,  and  on  other  fast  or  meager  days,  the  protestants 
never  fail  of  meeting  with  butcher's  meat,  etc.,  at  the  inns 
and  taverns,  without  being  at  the  trouble  to  proctire  a 
license  for  eating  it."  ^  But  even  toleration  has  its  limits. 
An  eccentric  Englishman  had  the  boldness  one  day  to  run 
up  the  steps  in  the  center  of  the  Scala  Santa,  which  the 
devout  ascend  only  upon  their  knees,  "but  he  was  soon 
called  down  with  great  indignation;  his  conduct  was  ex- 
cused on  the  supposition  of  ignorance  only."  ^ 

In  any  case,  prudence  in  speech  was  the  part  of  wisdom.^ 
"In  most  of  the  coffee-houses,"  says  Northall,  "there  are 
a  set  of  seemingly  social  and  obliging  persons,  who  have 
the  appearance  of  gentlemen,  and  insinuate  themselves 
into  the  company  of  strangers,  who  cannot  be  too  much 
on  their  guard  against  them,  as  they  are  only  spies  for 
the  inquisition."  For  "the  least  word  against  their  re- 
ligion or  government,"^  the  incautious  stranger  "will 
have  an  order  to  depart  the  city  in  twenty-four  hours, 
and  sometimes  in  twelve,  on  pain  of  inquisitorial  im- 
prisonment." ^  Even  until  late  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, as  Trevelyan  reminds  us,  "In  Rome  the  priest,  the 
spy,  and  the  foreigner  were  the  masters  before  whom 
all  must  tremble  for  long  years  to  come."  ^ 

Notwithstanding  the  spies,  the  general  attitude  of  the 
Church  towards  foreigners,  we  are  told,  was  "very  prudent, 
from  the  consideration  that  they  enrich  the  city  by  ex- 



pending  great  sums  of  money  here  annually,  so  that 
they  are  not  strictly  attended  to."  ^  Yet  the  Church  was 
very  slow  to  give  formal  sanction  to  heretical  worship 
within  the  walls  of  Rome.  "Even  the  English  in  the 
hey-day  of  their  power  and  reputation  on  the  Continent," 
says  Trevelyan,  "were  not  allowed  a  church  in  Rome, 
but  had  to  be  content  to  worship  in  a  church  outside 
the  Porta  del  Popolo."  ^  The  English  appear  to  have 
taken  good-naturedly  enough  the  exclusion  of  Protes- 
tant services  from  the  Papal  city.  They  must  have  re- 
membered that  the  attitude  toward  Catholics  in  English 
cities  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  anything  but  cordial. 

Protestants  though  most  Englishmen  were,  many  of 
them  arranged  to  be  presented  to  the  Pope.  The  seven- 
teenth-century Evelyn  tells  us:  "I  was  presented  to  kiss 
his  toe,  that  is,  his  embroidered  slipper,  two  cardinals 
holding  up  his  vest  and  surplice:  and  then,  being  suffi- 
ciently blessed  with  his  thumb  and  two  fingers  for  that 
day,  I  returned  home  to  dinner."  ^  A  century  and  a 
quarter  later  Dr.  Moore  witnessed  the  same  ceremony, 
"under  the  auspices  of  a  certain  ecclesiastic  who  usually 
attends  the  English  on  such  occasions."  *  Tourists  who 
were  not  presented  at  the  Vatican  might,  nevertheless, 
easily  "get  a  glimpse  of  His  Holiness  giving  a  benediction 
from  his  balcony  to  the  people  assembled  in  the  great 
open  place  before  the  church  of  St.  Peter,"  ^  or  see  him 
pass  in  state  through  the  streets.  "Everywhere  the 
Pope  goes,"  says  De  La  Lande,  "the  streets  are  strewn 
with  green,  all  the  bells  are  rung,  and  every  one  kneels 
to  receive  his  blessing,^  not  rising  until  he  has  passed. 
Those  who  do  not  wish  to  kneel  or  to  descend  from  their 
carriages  are  compelled  to  pass  into  another  street."  ^ 

There  were  numerous  other  spectacles  to  delight  the  eye. 
The  Carnival  season  drew  to  Rome  a  great  concourse  of 
English  tourists  who  watched  the  riderless  horses  racing 
every  day  but  Friday  ^  in  the  Corso,  and  the  thousand 
fantastic  disguises  that  filled  the  streets.  To  escape 
attention,   the  Englishman  like  the  rest  generally  wore 



a  mask  and  a  domino.  Now  and  then  he  might  see  his 
countrymen  caricatured  in  dress  and  manner,  especially 
in  their  fashion  of  handshaking,  which  appealed  to  the 
Italian  sense  of  humor. ^  And  he  might  count  himself 
fortunate  if  he  escaped  being  blinded  with  a  handful  of 
confetti.  For  at  this  season,  says  Moore,  "the  greatest 
mark  of  respect  you  can  show  your  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances is  to  throw  a  handful  of  little  white  balls,  resem- 
bling sugar-plums,  full  in  their  faces."  ^  In  the  Carnival 
time  Rome  was  ablaze  with  processions,  with  magnificent 
carriages  filled  with  gayly-dressed  cavaliers  and  ladies, 
all  a-glitter  with  jewels.  The  dome  of  St.  Peter's  was 
illuminated.  There  were  masked  balls.  There  were 
diversions  in  the  flooded  Piazza  Navone. 

The  expense  of  much  of  the  popular  merry-making  was 
trifling,  and  almost  necessarily  so,  for,  as  already  re- 
marked, there  was  little  commercial  business  at  Rome,  and 
much  poverty  among  the  masses.  But  there  was  great 
wealth  in  the  Chiirch  and  in  the  hands  of  a  few  noble 
families,  and  as  a  natural  result  there  was  often  lavish 
display.  "The  cardinals  set  the  example  of  a  great 
luxury,  and  the  nobility  vied  with  them  in  displaying 
their  own  riches  in  vessels  of  silver  and  gold,  in  dam- 
asks, tapestries,  pottery  of  great  price,  horses,  carriages,  liv- 
eries." ^  "  The  magnificence  of  the  great  families  of  Rome," 
says  De  La  Lande,  "consists  principally  in  having  vast 
palaces,  many  pages,  running  footmen,  lackeys,  horses, 
carriages,  costly  pictures,  and  beautiful  ancient  and  mod- 
ern statues."^  But  he  significantly  adds:  "These  rich 
houses  are  very  rare,  even  among  the  princes." 

A  stranger  who  sought  recognition  in  high  society  was 
obliged  in  some  measure  to  do  as  the  Romans  did  in 
conforming  to  social  laws.  He  might  walk  in  the  morning, 
but  after  dinner,  when  the  fine  carriages  began  to  move 
up  and  down  the  Corso,  he  would  hardly  venture  to  ap- 
pear there  on  foot.^  The  long  street  was  then  so  crowded 
with  carriages  moving  in  opposite  directions  that  a 
pedestrian  could  hardly  pass  from  one  side  to  the  other. 

320  , 


What  the  tourist  did  at  Rome  we  cannot  undertake  to 
follow  in  detail.  The  great  sights  as  enumerated  by  eight- 
eenth-century travelers  are  in  the  main  those  of  our 
time,  though  within  the  past  two  or  three  generations  there 
has  been  woeful  destruction  of  choice  bits  of  medieval 
and  Renaissance  architecture,  as  well  as  extensive  dis- 
covery of  the  remains  of  the  ancient  world. 

The  eighteenth  century  was  an  age  of  superficial  en- 
thusiasm for  antiquity,  and  every  visitor  to  Rome  duly 
made  the  rounds  of  the  more  important  ruins.  But  there 
had  been  little  excavation.  The  Coliseum  was  filled 
with  debris;  the  Palatine  Hill  was  covered  with  gardens, 
and  unexplored;  the  arches  of  the  theater  of  Marcellus 
were  blocked  up  and  inhabited  by  scores  of  poor  tenants; 
the  Forum  was  every  Thursday  and  Friday  a  market 
for  cows  and  oxen,^  which  wandered  past  the  column  of 
Phocas  and  the  half-buried  arch  of  Severus.  How  differ- 
ent, indeed,  the  Forum  was  from  the  place  we  know  to- 
day, excavated  as  it  is  to  the  level  of  prehistoric  Rome, 
we  may  see  in  any  eighteenth-century  description.  Says 
De  La  Lande,  "The  place  Campo  Vaccino,  of  which  we 
have  said  that  the  Forum  made  a  part,  is  much  larger 
than  the  ancient  place,  since  it  extends  as  far  as  the  temple 
of  Peace.  It  takes  in  a  large  part  of  the  ancient  sacred 
way,  and  is  to-day  rather  a  field  than  a  place.  Trees 
have  been  planted  in  the  middle,  but  they  are  old  and 
without  symmetry.  A  fountain  has  been  placed  there, 
with  a  handsome  granite  basin,  but  it  serves  only  to 
water  cattle.  Some  fagades  of  modem  churches  are 
seen,  but  the  principal  part  of  this  vast  space  presents 
nothing  but  ruins."  ^ 

But  although  ancient  Rome  was  only  partially  disin- 
terred, the  city  as  a  whole  offered,  even  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  so  much  for  examination  and  study  that  no 
transient  visitor  could  view  it  very  thoroughly,  par- 
ticularly if  he  gave  some  attention  to  society.  Many  Eng- 
lish tourists,  it  is  true,  cared  little  for  art,  yet  as  a  part 
of  their  duty  while  on  the  Continent,  they  spent  much  of 

321  . 


their  time  in  "looking  after  fine  statues,  the  pictures 
of  great  masters,  medals,  bronzes,  and  other  curios."  * 
"At  Rome,"  observes  De  La  Lande,  "everybody  busies 
himself  with  pictures  and  pretends  to  know  them.  Many 
people  live  by  this  traffic,  particularly  with  the  strangers."  ^ 

The  ordinary  plan  of  the  sight-seer  was  to  spend  the 
morning  in  visiting  antiquities  and  collections  of  paint- 
ings.^ After  an  early  dinner  one  slept  till  six.'*  In  the 
evening  one  gave  one's  self  up  to  amusement.^  Even 
Smollett  made  the  round  of  the  galleries.  "If  I  was 
silly  enough  to  make  a  parade,"  says  he,  "I  might  men- 
tion some  hundred  more  of  marbles  and  pictures,  which 
I  really  saw  at  Rome,  and  even  eke  out  that  number 
with  a  huge  list  of  those  I  did  not  see.""  One  of  the 
greatest  of  the  galleries  was  the  famous  Borghese  col- 
lection, comprising  "seventeen  hundred  original  pictures, 
which  arc  reckoned  worth  several  millions  of  money."  ^ 

These  and  other  sights  one  might  view  in  a  casual  way 
with  no  comprehensive  programme  in  hand.  But  Rome, 
more  than  any  other  city  of  Italy,  demanded  special 
preparation  of  the  sight-seer.  There  was  a  conventional 
list  of  things  to  do.  Misson  enumerates  forty-eight  classes 
of  objects  that  the  conscientious  tourist  should  endeavor 
to  view.^  He  presents  also  an  alphabetical  list  of  the 
one  hundred  and  seven  most  notable  palaces  of  Rome,'' 
with  their  situation,^"  and  adds  seventy-one  more  in  an 
uncommcntcd  list,  ending  with  an  "etc." 

But,  to  aid  in  selecting  the  most  important,  he  recom- 
mends that  "a  traveller  who  intends  not  to  stay  above 
two  or  three  months  at  Rome  should  immediately  after 
his  arrival  chuse  a  skilful  antiquary,  and  fix  certain  times 
with  him  to  visit  the  principal  rarities  of  that  famous 
city."  ^^  "What  is  called  a  regular  course  with  an  Anti- 
quarian," says  Dr.  Moore,  "generally  takes  up  about  six 
weeks;  employing  three  hours  a  day,  you  may,  in  that 
time,  visit  all  the  churches,  palaces,  villas,  and  ruins, 
worth  seeing,  in  or  near  Rome."^'^ 

Some  of  the  antiquaries  appear  to  have  given  very  good 



satisfaction.  On  June  i8,  1768,  the  young  Earl  of  Carlisle 
writes  to  Sclwyn:  "I  shall  have  finished  Rome  in  three 
weeks  more,  so  as  to  have  seen  everything  perfectly, 
and  the  principal  things  twice  or  three  times.  I  am  out 
on  this  business  seven  or  eight  hours  a  day,  which,  for 
a  continuance,  would  be  very  fatiguing  to  any  one  less 
eager  than  myself.  My  ciceroni  [!]  here,  Mr.  Harrison, 
who  is  a  very  good  man,  and  a  very  instructing  one  in 
a  particular  branch  of  knowledge,  was  to  have  set  out 
for  England  when  I  had  finished  Rome.  As  I  should 
otherwise  have  been  alone  till  I  had  met  Charles  at  Stras- 
burgh,  I  shall  make  him  go  with  me.  We  shall  see  a  great 
many  places  together  on  oiu:  way,  particularly  Perugia, 
Venice,  Verona,  Padua,  etc.,  etc.,  which  will  make  this 
journey  much  more  agreeable  to  me."  ^ 

But  the  multiplication  of  tourists  called  into  existence 
a  swarm  of  local  guides  whose  competence  left  much 
to  be  desired.  Most  of  these  fellows  spoke  English,  or 
what  by  courtesy  passed  for  English,  and  with  undaunted 
confidence  they  fastened  themselves  upon  the  tourist, 
often  before  he  had  alighted  at  his  inn,  offering  to  ex- 
plain everything  worth  seeing  in  the  city.^  Against 
these  cormorants  travelers  were  repeatedly  warned: 
"There  are,"  says  Northall,  "a  set  of  people  in  Rome 
distinguished  by  the  appellation  of  Antiquarians,  who 
offer  themselves  to  strangers  of  quality,  to  serve  them 
as  guides  in  surveying  the  curiosities  of  the  place.  Too 
many  of  our  young  English  noblemen  have  been  de- 
ceived and  imposed  upon  by  these  persons,  especially 
if  not  competent  judges  in  paintings  and  antiquities. 
These  Antiquarians  will  make  such  novices  believe  a  copy 
to  be  an  original  of  Raphael,  Angelo,  Titian,  or  some 
other  great  master,  which  they  purchase  at  an  extrava- 
gant price,  and  procure  a  handsome  premium  from  both 
buyer  and  seller."  ^ 

Most  of  these  so-called  guides  were,  indeed,  impudent 
charlatans,  who,  relying  upon  their  knowledge  of  local 
topography,  obtruded  their  ignorance  of  art,  architecture, 



and  history  upon  travelers  in  search  of  trustworthy  in- 
formation, and  by  mumbling  over  the  rigmaroles  that 
they  had  learned  destroj'^ed  half  the  pleasure  of  one's 
sight-seeing.  Breval  speaks  feelingly  of  the  incompe- 
tence of  the  official  conductors  of  parties  through  the 
Vatican.  "It  is  a  discouraging  Enterprize  to  digest  in  my 
Head,  for  Instance,  all  that  I  have  seen  in  only  one 
Afternoon's  Visit  to  the  Vatican,  especially  as  I  have 
put  myself  under  the  Conduct  of  an  ignorant  subor- 
dinate Officer,  or  Groom,  of  the  Chambers,  whose  Busi- 
ness it  is  to  earn  his  Testoon  as  fast  as  he  can,  and  hiu-ry 
away  to  the  next  Set  of  Customers."  ^  And  Duclos  re- 
marks that  most  of  the  ciccrones  at  Rome  were  no  better 
than  the  valets  of  the  hotels  garnis  at  Paris  that  showed 
the  city  to  strangers.^ 

Tourists  of  some  independence  might  dispense  alto- 
gether with  professional  guides  and  rely  upon  the  tourist 
hand-books  —  Misson's  or  Nugcnt's  or  De  La  Lande's  — 
or  one  of  the  numerous  local  guide-books.^  Even  when  one 
hired  an  antiquary,  such  an  aid  was  worth  while.  "The 
usual  method,"  says  Northall,  "is  to  purchase  a  little  use- 
ful book,  called,  a  guide  to  strangers,  which  points  out  and 
describes  most  of  the  places  and  curiosities  in  and  about 
Rome."  " 

Critical  tourists  followed  the  advice  of  Nugent:  "'Tis 
proper  also  to  be  provided  with  maps,  measures,  prospec- 
tive glasses,  a  mariner's  compass  and  quadrant,  and  to  be 
able  to  take  the  dimensions  of  things."  ^  Commonly,  no 
great  result  followed  the  use  of  this  learned  apparatus,  but 
the  tourist  could  flatter  himself  that  he  was  engaged  in 
original  antiquarian  research,  and  he  could  at  all  events 
give  thereby  a  learned  air  to  his  notebook. 

We  must,  indeed,  not  forget  that  by  far  the  larger  pro- 
portion of  the  visitors  to  Rome  were  pleasure-seekers,  who 
were  ready  to  give  themselves  considerable  trouble  to  see  the 
sights  included  in  the  usual  round,  but  who  were  consider- 
ably relieved  when  their  labors  were  at  an  end.  With 
rare  exceptions,  the  young  fellows  who  were  making  the 



grand  tour  under  the  guidance  of  a  tutor  brought  no 
critical  insight  into  what  they  saw,  and  they  carried  away 
from  Rome  a  confused  memory  of  drives  through  a  laby- 
rinth of  narrow  streets,  of  visits  to  a  host  of  churches  and 
museums  and  galleries,  of  dull  conversazioni,  where  they 
could  understand  only  half  of  what  was  said.  But  they 
could  hardly  forget  the  great  arches  of  broken  aqueducts 
stretching  across  the  desolate  Campagna,  the  yellow  Tiber 
rolling  past  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo,  the  burst  of  sunlight 
through  the  top  of  the  Pantheon,  the  huge  mass  of  the 
CoHseum,  or  the  view  of  the  swelling  dome  of  St.  Peter's 
as  seen  from  the  Pincian  Hill.  Memorable,  too,  were  the 
excursions  to  Hadrian's  Villa  and  the  cascades  of  Tivoli,  to 
the  Alban  Lake,  to  Frascati,  to  Tusculum,  to  Palestrina. 

Delightful  as  it  was,  Rome  could  not  claim  the  attention 
of  any  but  exceptional  tourists  for  more  than  a  few  weeks, 
commonly  six  or  eight,  and  then  preparation  must  be  made 
for  the  trip  to  Naples  or  for  the  return  northward. 


The  journey  from  Rome  to  Naples  afforded  the  leisurely 
tourist  abundant  opportunity,  not  merely  to  view  some  of 
the  most  exquisite  scenery  in  Italy,  but  to  visit  ancient 
towns,  in  so  far  as  he  had  not  already  done  so  in  the  excur- 
sions from  Rome.  But  the  ordinary  tourist  was  at  the 
mercy  of  his  vetturino,  and  caught  only  fleeting  glimpses  on 
the  way  —  here  of  an  ancient  tomb  or  the  ruins  of  a  villa, 
there  of  a  rugged  castle  or  of  a  white  village  on  a  hill.  As 
for  the  road  itself,  it  left  much  to  be  desired, »  whether  one 
went  through  Terracina  and  Fondi  or  farther  east  by 
Monte  Cassino. 

Of  the  two  or  three  halting-places  on  the  way,  one  of 
the  most  usual  was  Capua.^  But  the  vast  ruined  amphi- 
theater and  other  ancient  remains  at  Santa  Maria  di  Capua 
Vetere,  three  or  four  miles  farther  south,  made  a  pitiful 
contrast  with  the  squalid  modem  town  that  had  grown  up 
about  them.   One  was  here  beset  by  beggars  and  by  vendors 



of  medals  and  coins  dug  up  in  the  neighborhood  —  mostly 
the  refuse  that  could  not  be  sold  to  critical  collectors. 

A  few  miles  farther  on  was  Caserta.  In  the  second  half  of 
the  century,  after  the  construction  of  the  huge  royal  palace, 
one  of  the  most  imposing  in  Europe,  tourists  often  paused 
here  to  see  the  Italian  Versailles  and  to  compare  it  with 
its  French  prototype.  From  Caserta  to  Naples  was  a 
matter  of  but  a  few  hours. 

The  liveliest  and  noisiest  city  in  Italy  was  undoubtedly 
Naples.  This  unique  city,  with  its  more  than  three  hun- 
dred thousand  inhabitants,  and  its  forty  thousand  half- 
naked  lazzaroni  living  in  the  streets,  presented  an  endless 
variety  of  pictures  strangely  unlike  anything  to  be  seen  in 
England.  The  din  of  the  narrow  thoroughfares  was  deaf- 
ening and  incessant;  it  began  before  dawn  with  the  bray- 
ing of  asses  and  the  bleating  of  goats,  and  continued  until 
late  at  night  with  the  rumbling  of  carts,  the  cries  of  hawk- 
ers, and  the  never-ceasing  bray  of  the  undaunted  asses. 
Yet  tourists  of  all  types  found  a  peculiar  charm  ^  in  this 
noisy,  dirty  city.  Wright  called  it  the  finest  city  in  Italy ;  ^ 
Nugent,  "the  pleasantest  place  in  Europe";^  and  the 
usually  not  too  enthusiastic  Dr.  Moore  regarded  it,  inde- 
pendently of  "its  happy  situation,"  as  "a  very  beautiful 
city."  * 

No  competent  modem  tourist  counts  the  buildings  of 
Naples  that  antedate  the  nineteenth  century  as  preeminent 
for  beauty.  On  the  contrary,  he  is  likely  to  regard  most 
of  them  not  only  as  dingy  and  mean,  but  as  tawdry  speci- 
mens of  debased  architecture.  The  modern  point  of  view 
already  appears  in  the  comments  of  Mariana  Starke  at  the 
close  of  the  eighteenth  century:  "The  extreme  bad  taste 
which  pervades  almost  every  building  induces  travellers  to 
prefer  Rome,  even  in  her  present  mutilated  state,  to  all 
the  gaiety  of  Naples."  ^ 

Far  more  flattering  to  Naples  is  the  estimate  of  earlier 
tourists.  Evelyn  writes  with  enthusiasm  of  the  cathedral 
as  "a  most  magnificent  pile";  and  adds  that,  "except  St. 
Peter's  in  Rome,   Naples  exceeds  all  cities  for  stately 



churches  and  monasteries. ' '  ^  And  he  goes  on  to  say :  "  The 
building  of  the  city  is  for  the  size  the  most  magnificent  of 
any  in  Europe."  ^ 

Eighteenth-century  tourists  are  not  less  lavish  in  their 
praise,  though  Northall  points  out  that  Naples  has  been 
"so  often  ruined  by  invasions  that  few  remains  of  antiquity 
are  found  in  it."  »  Yet  even  Northall  does  not  hesitate  to 
say:  "If  Naples  is  not  above  half  as  big  as  Paris  or  Lon- 
don, yet  it  hath  much  more  beauty  than  either  of  them."  '» 
And  a  little  eariier  he  remarks:  " It  is  observed  of  this  city, 
that  though  Rome  and  Florence  may  excel  it  in  the  mag- 
nificence of  their  churches,  palaces,  and  other  public  edi- 
fices, yet  their  streets  and  private  houses  are  generally 
mean  and  contemptible,  if  compared  to  those  of  Naples, 
where  the  buildings  are  more  uniform  and  regular,  and 
almost  all  the  houses  btdlt  in  a  grand  manner;  the  streets 
long,  strait,  spacious.  .  .  .  The  street  named  Toledo 
excels  most  in  Europe  for  its  length  and  breadth."  ^ 

It  is,  indeed,  a  striking  commentary  on  eighteenth-cen- 
tury standards  that  so  many  travelers  single  out  the  Strada 
di  Toledo  as  ' '  the  finest  street  they  have  ever  seen. ' '  ^  Even 
the  critical  De  Brosses  says  that  it  is  certainly  the  longest 
and  handsomest  street  in  any  city  of  Europe,^  but  he  ad- 
mits that  it  has  half  a  foot  of  mud  and  two  rows  of  infa- 
mous shops  and  butchers'  stalls  that  extend  all  the  length 
of  the  street  and  mask  the  houses.  Most  of  the  other  streets 
are  narrow  and  mean.  Notwithstanding  these  drawbacks, 
Naples  is,  in  his  opinion,  the  only  city  in  Italy  that  really 
has  the  air  of  a  capital.^ 

But  whatever  was  to  be  said  of  the  city  itself,  there 
could  be  but  one  judgment  on  the  enchanting  situation. 
The  Bay  of  Naples  was  unrivaled  for  beauty  in  Italy;  and 
Naples  was  the  only  great  city  in  Europe  with  an  active 
volcano  at  her  very  gates.  "Naples,"  says  Goethe,  "is  a 
paradise:  in  it  every  one  lives  in  a  sort  of  intoxicated  self- 
forgetfulness.  It  is  even  so  with  me;  I  scarcely  know  my- 
self —  I  seem  quite  an  altered  man."  * 
In  this  paradise  the  conditions  were,  nevertheless,  not 



entirely  paradisaical.  The  standard  of  honesty  was  low,  and 
the  scheming  shopkeeper  looked  upon  an  unwary  tourist  as 
the  wolf  looks  upon  the  lamb.  At  night  the  streets  were 
unlighted  and  dangerous,  with  only  dim  lights  before  the 
madonnas. 1  Many  other  matters  were  far  from  ideal. 
The  illiteracy  was  appalling.  ' '  Two  in  a  hundred  can  read, ' ' 
says  Dupaty.2  Beggars  "covered  with  rags  and  filth" 
were  omnipresent  and  pertinacious,  crowding  in  shoals  into 
the  coffee-houses  and  driven  by  the  waiters  into  the  street 
every  five  minutes.^  The  lazzaroni,  says  Moore,  "strip 
themselves  before  the  houses  that  front  the  bay,  and  bathe 
themselves  in  the  sea  without  the  smallest  ceremony." 
During  the  heat  of  the  day  "  those  stout  athletic  figures  " 
might  be  "seen  walking  and  sporting  on  the  shore  per- 
fectly naked,  and  with  no  more  idea  of  shame  than  Adam 
felt  in  his  state  of  innocence;  while  the  ladies  from  their 
coaches  and  the  servant  maids  and  young  girls  "  would 
"  contemplate  this  singular  spectacle  with  as  little  apparent 
emotion  as  the  ladies  in  Hyde  Park  behold  a  review  of  the 
horse  guards."  ^  Conditions  so  primitive  were  slightly  dis- 
concerting to  English  tourists.  But  these  undraped  paupers 
were  in  one  respect  superior  to  the  beggars  of  London  — 
they  were  sober.  The  hard  drinking  there  so  common  was 
very  rare  at  Naples,  and  a  drunken  man  or  woman  was 
scarcely  ever  seen  in  the  streets.^ 

Notwithstanding  the  size  of  Naples,  it  was  "difficult  to 
find  lodgings  fit  to  receive  a  gentleman."  Evelyn  had 
stayed  at  the  Three  Kings,  where  he  enjoyed  "the  most 
plentiful  fare,"  seldom  sitting  "down  to  fewer  than  eight- 
een or  twenty  dishes  of  exqmsite  meat  and  fruits."  ^  Yet, 
says  Sharp,  more  than  a  century  later,  "Except  the  house 
where  I  am,  and  another  just  by  it,  there  are  only  two  in- 
different houses  of  reception  in  all  Naples,  whither  strangers 
resort."^  Good  water  was  "a  scarce  commodity  at 
Naples,"  and  the  air  in  some  quarters  was  thought  to  be 
dangerous  for  persons  with  weak  lungs. ^ 

To  occupy  one's  time  at  Naples  was  not  very  difficult. 
Besides  the  endless  panorama  of  the  streets  there  were 



excursions  to  Posilipo,  to  Virgil's  tomb,  to  Baiae,  to 
Passtum,  to  Capri,  and,  as  the  crowning  attraction  of  all, 
to  Vesuvius.  The  ascent  of  the  volcano  was  usually 
counted  as  a  tourist's  duty  that  must  not  be  shirked. 
But  the  Earl  of  Carlisle,  writing  to  Selwyn,  confesses,  "If 
I  had  not  been  ashamed  to  have  gone  away  from  Naples 
without  going  up,  I  should  certainly  not  have  given  myself 
the  trouble."  ^ 

Pffistum,  with  its  array  of  ancient  temples  rivaled  only 
by  those  of  Girgenti,  was  an  especially  favorite  excursion 
for  tourists  from  Naples.  "To-day,"  says  Dupaty,  "Paes- 
tum  is  not  inhabited,  so  to  speak,  except  by  French,  English, 
and  Russian  travellers,  and  not  by  Neapolitans."  ^  The 
natives,  indeed,  gave  little  attention  to  such  sight-seeing. 
"All  the  Neapolitans  in  general  bestow  great  contempt  on 
the  strangers  whose  curiosity  prompts  them  to  ascend 
Mount  Vesuvius,  and  scarcely  one  among  a  hundred  of 
them  can  be  found  who  has  been  upon  that  mountain. 
Few  have  ever  seen  Portici  or  Pompeii."  ^ 

After  the  discovery  and  partial  excavation  of  Hercu- 
laneum  and  Pompeii,  tourists,  however,  flocked  to  see  the 
ruins.  Mariana  Starke  visited  Pompeii  *  late  in  the  cen- 
tury; and  in  her  itemized  list  of  expenses  she  notes:  "To 
the  man  who  throws  water  on  the  paintings,  one  or  two 
carlini  —  to  the  guide,  one  ducat."  ^  Comparatively  little 
of  either  of  the  buried  cities  was  to  be  seen,  and  that  little 
was  not  very  intelligently  investigated.  The  main  purpose 
of  the  eighteenth-century  excavation  was  not  to  study  the 
conditions  of  ancient  life  so  marvelously  preserved  to  our 
day,  but  to  discover  curiosities,  art  treasures,  and  other 

Many  tourists  at  Naples  were  so  bent  upon  sight-seeing 
that  the  few  days  at  their  disposal  were  overcrowded.  But 
those  with  more  leisure  found  society  in  Naples  peculiarly 
agreeable  and  freely  open  to  strangers  who  were  properly 
introduced.  Neapolitan  hospitality  was  not,  however,  of 
the  English  type.  Sharp,  as  is  his  wont  on  most  matters, 
makes  a  sweeping  assertion  concerning  the  Neapolitan 



traditions  concerning  entertainment:  "It  is  not  usual 
here  to  dine  or  sup  at  each  others'  houses,  and  there  are 
some  who  never  do,  except  only  on  Christmas  Day,  or,  per- 
haps, during  the  week;  nay,  they  are,  in  general,  so  unac- 
customed to  entertain  one  another,  that  the  greater  num- 
ber seldom  receive  their  friends  but  upon  weddings,  deaths, 
and  lyings  in."  ^  Yet  the  nobility  of  Naples  invited  guests 
to  their  tables  much  more  generally  than  was  the  case  in 
other  cities  of  Italy ,2  though  this  need  not  be  taken  to  indi- 
cate widely  extended  hospitality. 

On  this  matter  Sharp  observes:  "There  are  some,  who, 
when  they  entertain,  give  the  most  splendid,  expensive, 
and  elegant  dinners  that  can  be  imagined.  The  Prince  of 
Franca  Villa  keeps  a  kind  of  open  table  every  night,  with 
twelve  or  fourteen  covers,  where  the  English  of  any  figure 
are  at  all  times  received  with  the  greatest  politeness."  ' 
Somewhat  later  he  returns  to  the  same  theme:  "There 
are  not,  as  I  have  said,  many  of  the  nobility  who  keep  any 
kind  of  open  table;  but  those  who  do,  never  fail  to  invite 
such  English  whose  quality,  connections,  or  recommenda- 
tory letters,  render  them  proper  company  for  people  of  the 
first  rank.  The  Prince  of  Villa  Franca  closed  the  carnival 
last  week  with  a  splendid  dinner  (perhaps  more  splendid 
than  you  see  in  London)  provided  for  eighteen  guests,  ten 
of  which  were  the  English  Gentlemen  on  their  travels."  * 

From  1764  to  1800,  Sir  William  Hamilton  was  British 
Envoy  at  the  Court  of  Naples,  and,  like  Sir  Horace  Mann 
at  Florence,  counted  it  a  large  part  of  his  duty  to  show 
courtesy  to  his  countrymen  and  to  distinguished  strangers 
from  other  lands.  He  took  De  La  Lande  up  Mount 
Vesuvius  in  1765.^  Throughout  his  long  stay  Sir  WilHam's 
house  was  popular  with  English  visitors.  Even  as  early  as 
1765  he  used  to  receive  company  every  evening,  much  to 
the  pleasure  of  the  English.  "  It  is  the  custom, ' '  says  Sharp, 
"when  neither  the  opera,  nor  any  particular  engagements 
prevent,  to  meet  at  his  house,  where  we  amuse  ourselves 
as  we  are  disposed,  either  at  cards,  the  billiard-table,  or  his 
little  concert;  some  form  themselves  into  small  parties  of 



conversation,  and  as  the  members  of  this  society  are  often 
Ambassadors,  Nuncios,  Monsignoris,  Envoys,  Residents, 
and  the  first  quality  of  Naples,  you  will  conceive  it  to  be 
instructive  as  well  as  honourable."  ^  Even  more  attractive 
was  the  envoy's  house  after  1786,  when  the  beauty  and 
charm  of  Lady  Emma  Hamilton  made  it  the  most  brilliant 
social  center  in  Naples. 

Moral  standards  were  not  absurdly  high  in  Neapolitan 
society,  but  as  was  the  case  in  Paris,  conventions  regulat- 
ing dress  and  manners  were  rigid  in  the  gay  Southern  capi- 
tal. A  gentleman  would  not  dare,  says  Dupaty,  to  appear 
in  the  streets  on  foot  in  the  evening;  he  would  be  disgraced. 2 
Fortunately,  carriages  were  cheap  enough  to  impose  no 
great  expense  upon  those  who  knew  the  tariff.^  Servants, 
too,  were  very  cheap ;  and  no  lady  drove  out  without  run- 
ning footmen  as  a  part  of  her  equipage.^ 

One  could  easily  and  delightfully  drift  along  for  a  whole 
social  season  at  Naples,  now  at  the  theater,  where  the 
clergy,  the  monks  not  excepted,  went  like  all  the  rest  of  the 
world;  now  at  the  opera,  with  its  inevitable  ballet;  now 
on  the  promenade;  now  at  the  Academy.  But  whoever 
mingled  in  society  was  obliged  to  turn  night  into  day. 
Fashionable  gatherings  did  not  break  up  until  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning.^  Playing  for  high  stakes  was  a  favorite 
diversion  at  Naples.  Young  Charles  James  Fox  found 
ample  opportunity  there  for  lightening  his  purse.  "When 
he  sailed  from  Naples  on  his  homeward  journey,  he  left  his 
father  poorer,  it  is  said,  by  sixteen  thousand  pounds."  ^ 

Tovuists  who  were  swept  into  the  social  whirl  had  little 
leisure  for  serious  study  at  Naples,  but  even  the  idlers  com- 
monly saw  the  most  famous  classical  localities  on  their 
pleasure  excursions  and  carried  back  to  Rome  an  unforget- 
table memory  of  this  land  of  the  lotus  —  the  ancient  city 
rising  tier  on  tier  to  the  grim  fortress  of  Saint-Elmo;  the 
wreathing  smoke  of  Vesuvius ;  and,  far  down  the  Bay, 
enchanting  Capri  closing  the  view  to  the  south. 




With  the  approach  of  the  warm  season  the  tourist, 
as  a  rule,  made  his  way  back  from  Naples  and  took  leave 
of  Rome  to  begin  the  long  return  journey.  If  he  had 
come  down  through  Florence  and  Siena,  he  was  very 
likely  to  follow  the  road  up  the  east  coast  through  Lor- 
etto,  Ancona,  Rimini,  and  possibly  Ravenna,  then  visit- 
ing some  of  the  cities  of  the  Lombard  plain  or  proceeding 
to  Venice  for  the  festivities  of  Ascension.  On  this  por- 
tion of  the  trip  we  need  not  linger,  but  we  may  spare  a 
few  words  for  two  or  three  places,  and  first  for  Loretto. 
English  tourists  very  frequently  went  to  Loretto  and 
gazed  in  wonder  at  the  treasure  heaped  up  there.  Their 
comments,  as  might  be  expected  from  Protestants,  were 
usually  somewhat  scornful.  Prompted  by  Misson's 
"New  Voyage  to  Italy,"  they  remarked  upon  the  beads 
that  were  bought  and  rubbed  against  the  Santa  Casa, 
and  "against  all  the  madonnas  drawn  by  St.  Luke,  and 
some  other  most  holy  relics,  as  the  pease  which  sprouted 
in  the  issue  St.  Francis  had  in  his  neck,  which  have  such 
virtue  that  no  devil  can  stand  it."  ' 

In  a  place  so  overcrowded  with  strangers  as  Loretto 
there  was  bound  to  be  extortion.  "The  innkeepers," 
says  Keysler,  "are  for  imposing  as  much  as  they  can 
upon  strangers;  but  the  entertainment  is  here  generally 
very  good."  ^  He  might  also  have  added  that  it  was  some- 
times sufficiently  penitential.  In  his  usual  satirical  vein 
Dr.  Moore  remarks:  "The  innkeepers  do  not  disturb  the 
devotion  of  the  pilgrims  by  the  luxuries  of  either  bed  or 
board.  I  have  not  seen  worse  accommodations  since  I 
entered  Italy  than  at  the  inn  here."  ' 

Some  amends  were  made  at  Ancona,  which  hospi- 
tably welcomed  tourists  who  could  afford  the  time  for 
social  festivities.  Baretti  extols  the  courtesy  of  the  in- 
habitants. They  are  "liberal  of  their  dinners  to  many 
strangers,  and  especially  the  English,  of  whom  they 
are  enamoured  to  a  degree  of  enthusiasm."  ^     Ancona 




boasted  its  Roman  triumphal  arch  and  its  cathedral  with 
ancient  Roman  columns.  But  the  si^^hts  of  Ancona  were 
of  small  account  to  tourists  fresh  from  Rome. 

Fano,  Pcsaro,  Rimini,  the  excursion  to  San  Marino  — 
of  which  Addison  gives  an  interesting  account — afforded 
attractions  for  a  variety  of  tastes,  but  only  occasional 
tourists  took  much  interest  in  anything  besides  the  Roman 
remains,  such  as  the  arch  at  Fano  and  the  arch  and  the 
bridge  at  Rimini. 

Nor  did  they  especially  appreciate  Ravenna.  This  an- 
cient city,  with  its  unique  array  of  churches  and  wall 
mosaics  dating  from  the  earliest  Middle  Ages,  has  for 
travelers  of  our  time  a  peculiar  fascination.  But  the  at- 
titude of  eighteenth-century  tourists  was  somewhat  con- 
descending, if  not  contemptuous.  The  famous  botanist 
John  Ray  was  there  in  the  .seventeenth  century  and  was 
not  favorably  impressed.  "This  place  has  scarce  any 
thing  to  boast  of  now  but  its  antiquity,  being  very  ill 
peopled,  ill  .serv'd  with  fish,  notwithstanding  its  vicinity 
to  the  sea,  ill  provided  with  inns,  and  worse  with  water."  ^ 
More  than  three  quarters  of  a  century  later  Nugent 
found  "the  buildings  .  .  .  generally  mean,  the  place 
but  thinly  peopled,  and  its  trade  entirely  lost."  ^  In  his 
"Grand  Tour,"  however,  he  devotes  two  and  a  half 
pages  to  the  city,  which  was  recognized  as  a  place  to  be 
visited.  Professional  guides  conducted  strangers  to  the 
chief  points  of  interest.  One  of  these  "was  the  Rotonda 
(a  little  church  so  called  from  its  figure)  without  the 
walls."  *  This  was  the  famous  mausoleum  of  Theodoric 
the  Great,  surmounted  by  a  single  block  of  marble  weighing 
four  hundred  and  seventy  tons.  Byron  made  a  consider- 
able stay  at  Ravenna.  But,  in  general,  eighteenth- 
century  tourists  not  particularly  interested  in  Byzantine 
art  agreed  with  Dr.  Moore,  that  Ravenna  was  "a  disagree- 
able town,"  and  commended  the  brevity  of  his  account: 
"The  ruins  of  his  (Theodoric's)  palace  and  his  tomb  now 
form  part  of  the  antiquities  of  Ravenna;  among  which  I 
shall  not  detain  you  a  moment."  ^ 



The  tourist  who  had  made  the  round  of  Italy  that  we 
have  outlined  had  seen  enough  to  satisfy  ordinary  curios- 
ity, and  was  ready  to  turn  to  other  fields,  either  to  ex- 
tend his  journey  into  the  German  Empire  or  to  enlarge 
his  acquaintance  with  France.  In  making  his  way  out 
through  northern  Italy,  if  he  paid  a  second  visit  to  Venice 
or  Milan  or  Tiuin,  his  stay  was  commonly  not  very  pro- 
tracted. His  most  likely  move,  as  already  remarked,  was 
to  bring  up  at  Venice  in  time  for  Ascension  and  the  fetes 
of  that  brilliant  season. 




It  is  unnecessary  to  follow  the  tourist  farther  in  Italy, 
and  obviously  impossible  to  anticipate  the  route  by 
which  he  might  take  his  departure.  On  his  way  back 
to  England,  however,  he  not  uncommonly  planned  to 
see  something  of  Germany,^  though  Germany  as  a  whole 
attracted  relatively  few  visitors  in  comparison  with 
France  and  Italy.  It  was  not  until  the  nineteenth  century 
that  the  flood  of  English  travel  began  to  set  strongly 
in  the  direction  of  Germany,  and  even  then,  in  most  cases, 
the  acquaintance  with  any  portions  except  the  Rhine  and 
a  few  leading  cities  was  strangely  superficial. 

In  the  eighteenth  centiury  the  German  tour  could, 
of  course,  be  made,  and  often  was  made,  in  the  earlier 
part  of  one's  survey  of  the  Continent.  But  since  the  tour 
through  Germany  was  not  regarded  as  so  essential  a 
part  of  the  traveler's  duty  as  the  tour  in  France  and 
Italy,  it  was  more  commonly  reserved  for  the  end. 

Germany  as  a  whole  stood  more  or  less  out  of  relation 
with  the  interests  of  the  average  Englishman,  and  that, 
too,  notwithstanding  the  close  political  connection  of 
England  with  the  House  of  Hanover.  With  the  rarest 
exceptions,  the  English  totirist  knew  little  about  German 
art,  architecture,  or  literature,  and  he  was  inclined  to 
look  with  some  contempt  upon  the  plain  German  people. 
In  all  solid  attainments  the  Germans  were  unsiirpassed  by 
any  people  in  Europe.  But  they  were  not  preeminent 
for  the  social  graces  that  distinguished  the  French  — tact, 
ease,  delicacy  of  taste,  repartee.  German  society  was 
hampered   by   a   superabundance   of   conventional   cere- 



mony.  The  very  solidity  of  German  scholarship  did 
not  make  for  lightness  of  touch  in  conversation.  But 
some  of  these  social  defects  were  more  than  compensated 
by  sterling  virtues,  and  in  particular  by  the  sincerity  that 
is  still  so  engaging  a  trait  of  German  character.  The 
English  and  the  Germans  have  long  had  every  reason  for 
the  closest  association  and  sympathy,  but  even  in  our 
time  the  two  peoples  hardly  understand  each  other. 

Still,  even  in  the  eighteenth  century,  a  considerable 
number  of  English  tourists  saw  more  or  less  of  Germany. 
The  toiuist  who  made  his  exit  from  Italy  through  Tiirin 
went  by  way  of  Susa  over  Mont  Cenis.  Not  infrequently 
he  passed  through  Chambery  and  Annecy  to  Geneva, 
and  thence,  perhaps,  through  Basel  and  Strassburg  down 
the  Rhine.  Another  important  route  ran  up  from  Milan 
through  Como,  Lugano,  Bellinzona,  Giornico,  Airolo, 
and  thence  over  the  Saint  Gotthard  Pass  to  Altorf  and 
Lucerne,^  whence  exit  to  the  north  was  easy.  But,  ac- 
cording to  Nugent,  the  pleasantest  and  more  frequented 
route  into  Germany  was  through  Trent  and  Botzen, 
over  the  Brenner  to  Innsbruck.  From  here  one  could 
go  by  a  well-traveled  road  to  Munich  and  Augsburg.^ 

To  go  from  Venice  to  Vienna,  the  shortest  way  was  the 
carriage  road  through  Mestre,  Treviso,  Villach,  Sankt 
Veit,  Judenburg,  and  Knittelfeld,  a  distance  of  two 
hundred  and  eighty-six  miles.  For  this  journey,  says 
Nugent,  "you  may  hire  a  chaise  at  Mestre  for  Vienna  and 
give  the  vetturino  fourteen  or  fifteen  ducats  for  your  pas- 
sage, all  charges  included,  or  from  seven  to  eight  ducats 
without  including  all  charges."  ^  This  route  occupied 
twelve  or  thirteen  days  and  offered  little  to  satisfy  one's 
curiosity.^  Nugent  recommends,  therefore,  the  post-road 
to  Vienna  by  way  of  Mestre,  Palma,  Laibach,  Cilli,  and 
Gratz,  as  affording  "much  the  best  accommodation 
for  travellers."  ^  One  could  vary  this  second  route  "  by 
taking  ship  at  Venice  for  Trieste"  and  going  thence  by 
land  to  Laibach  and  Vienna. 

Once  arrived  in  Germany  the  tourist  found  it  prudent, 



if  he  cared  for  his  comfort,  to  confine  his  journey  to  the 
main  routes.  And  this  simple  fact  seriously  limited 
the  range  of  his  knowledge  of  the  country. 


It  is  extremely  difficult  to  generalize  about  Germany  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  so  great  were  the  differences 
between  adjacent  districts  and  even  adjacent  towns. 
For  the  passing  stranger,  ignorant  of  the  language  and 
unable  to  determine  what  was  typical  and  what  was  ex- 
ceptional, the  task  was  wholly  beyond  his  powers. 

Germany  in  our  time  easily  takes  its  place  in  the  front 
rank  of  the  nations  of  the  world  —  in  scholarship,  in  com- 
mercial enterprise,  in  military  might.  In  the  eighteenth 
century,  as  we  have  elsewhere  seen,  Germany  as  a  whole 
suffered  from  arrested  development.  The  great  indus- 
tries, which  in  our  time  have  brought  wealth  to  Diissel- 
dorf  and  Elberfeld  and  Essen  and  Leipsic  and  Nurem- 
berg and  Berlin,  were  not  even  in  their  infancy.  Portions 
of  Germany  —  especially  the  agricultural  districts  — 
were  desperately  poor,  but,  as  might  be  expected  in  a 
coiuitry  where  in  the  course  of  an  afternoon  drive  one 
might  be  in  the  dominions  of  two  or  three  independent 
petty  sovereigns,  the  contrasts  were  very  sharp.  Early 
in  the  century  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  remarked: 
"  'Tis  impossible  not  to  observe  the  difference  between 
the  free  towns  and  those  under  the  government  of  abso- 
lute princes,  as  all  the  little  sovereigns  of  Germany  are. 
In  the  first,  there  appears  an  air  of  commerce  and  plenty. 
The  streets  are  well  built,  and  full  of  people,  neatly  and 
plainly  dressed.  The  shops  are  loaded  with  merchandise, 
and  the  commonality  are  clean  and  cheerful.  In  the 
other,  you  see  a  sort  of  shabby  finery,  a  number  of  dirty 
people  of  quality  tawdered  out;  narrow,  nasty  streets  out 
of  repair,  wretchedly  thin  of  inhabitants,  and  above 
half  of  the  common  sort  asking  alms."  ^ 

Estimates  of  Germany  naturally  varied  widely  accord- 



ing  to  the  point  of  view  and  the  opportunities  of  the 
tourist.  Very  flattering  is  the  account  of  Dr.  Edward 
Browne,  son  of  the  author  of  "ReHgio  Medici,"  in  the 
last  third  of  the  seventeenth  century:  " Now  I  must  confess 
that  after  I  had  taken  so  full  a  view  of  Germany,  I  found 
it  quite  different  from  the  conceptions  I  had  formed  of 
it  myself.  .  .  .  'Tis  true,  France  has  many  fine  cities 
and  seaports,  yet  they  do  not  come  up  in  number  to 
those  in  Germany,  and  I  much  question  whether  it  has 
any  places  that  exceed  Hamburgh,  Lubeck,  Dantzick, 
Bremen,  etc.  Besides  which,  the  whole  country  is  full  of 
populous  towns,  great  villages,  strong  castles,  seats  of 
persons  of  quality,  delicious  plants,  forests,  and  pleasant 
woods.  Nay,  Germany  affords  even  under  ground  mines 
of  gold,  silver,  copper,  iron,  tin,  lead,  quicksilver,  anti- 
mony, coal,  salt,  stdphur,  cadmia,  etc.,  and  is  full  of  the 
best  artificers  to  work  in  them.  Add  to  this  the  easy  con- 
versation of  the  people,  who  are  great  lovers  of  strangers 
and  honest  in  their  dealings.  The  women  are  generally 
well  complexioned,  of  a  sober  behaviour,  faithful  to  their 
husbands,  and  good  housewives."  ' 

German  cities  made,  as  a  rule,  a  very  favorable  im- 
pression upon  tourists.  Nugent  sweepingly  declares: 
"There  are  no  better  buildings  in  Europe,  out  of  Italy, 
than  those  of  Germany.  The  town-houses  are  far  more 
magnificent  than  those  of  other  countries;  and  most  of 
the  palaces  and  cathedrals  being  Gothic,  they  discover 
a  grand  though  irregular  taste."  ^ 

In  the  eighteenth  century  Germany  was  on  the  whole 
more  picturesque  than  it  now  is.  The  onward  march 
of  civilization  has  swept  away  many  a  decayed  medieval 
building,  and  many  an  old  social  usage  that  still  lingered 
harmlessly  a  century  and  a  half  ago.  In  many  places 
the  ancient  costumes  were  still  wom,^  where  now  is  the 
dull  uniformity  made  possible  by  the  cheap  department 

But  notwithstanding  all  the  inducements  in  Germany 
to  lure   the   traveler  onward, —  the   variety   of  scenery, 



the  picturesque  architecture,  the  historic  associations  of 
the  cities,  and  the  active  social  life  in  the  great  centers, 
—  few  tourists  became  thoroughly  acquainted  with  more 
than  a  small  portion  of  the  German  Empire.  The  guide- 
books duly  described  the  principal  cities,  but  English 
tourists  rarely  visited  them  with  the  interest  that  they 
bestowed  upon  the  cities  of  France  and  Italy.  English- 
men found  agreeable  entertainment  in  a  few  representa- 
tive centers,  such  as  Hamburg,  Berlin,  Frankfort,  Munich, 
Dresden,  Prague,  Vienna,  the  Rhine  cities,  Leipsic,  Han- 
over; but  in  the  medieval  architecture  of  Nuremberg, 
Hildesheim,  Rothenburg,  and  similar  medieval  towns,  now 
the  delight  of  lovers  of  the  picturesque,  they  took  com- 
paratively little  interest. 

Smaller  towns  that  chanced  to  lie  upon  the  route  they 
commonly  saw  rapidly,  but  they  deviated  little  from 
the  main  highways  for  the  sake  of  getting  a  more  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  the  rural  districts.  For  this 
neglect  there  was  considerable  excuse.  The  typical 
English  village,  with  its  great  elms  and  oaks,  its  thatched 
cottages,  its  stately  manor-houses,  its  well-kept  green 
beside  the  ivy-covered  church,  had  comparatively  few 
counterparts  in  Germany.  The  German  village  was  too 
often  an  ill-kept,  malodorous,  single  street,  with  squalid 
houses  built  close  to  the  unpaved  road,  in  which  ducks 
and  swine  found  a  congenial  abiding-place.  Naturally 
enough,  then,  the  English  tourist,  almost  invariably 
ignorant  of  German  and  acquainted  with  only  an  in- 
significant fraction  of  the  country,  seldom  shows  an 
intelligent  appreciation  of  Germany  and  the  German 
people.  As  a  rule,  he  compares  Germany  with  England, 
much  to  his  own  satisfaction.  The  homely,  bourgeois 
character  of  a  great  part  of  the  country,  with  the  odd 
manners  and  the  abundance  of  beer  and  tobacco,  sausage 
and  sauerkraut,  is  what  appears  most  to  impress  the 
stranger.  He  notes  that  women  lack  taste  in  dress  and 
that  they  carry  their  knitting  to  the  theater. 

In  this  sort  of  observation,  so  common  in  books  of 



travel,  there  was  a  measure  of  truth.  The  German  ap- 
petite was  excellent ;  the  German  standard  of  taste  in  dress 
was  not  exactly  Parisian ;  and  plain  living  made  necessary 
by  small  incomes  was  the  rule.  The  marvelous  advance 
of  Prussia  in  military  strength  and  in  the  arts  of  peace 
under  Frederick  the  Great  even  the  hastiest  tourist  was 
bound  to  notice,  but  of  the  multitude  of  states  that  made 
up  Germany  most  Englishmen  had  only  the  most  super- 
ficial knowledge.  At  all  events,  such  a  familiarity  with 
the  country  as  any  persistent  traveler  with  a  compe- 
tent knowledge  of  German  can  now  gain  in  a  few  months, 
was  extremely  rare. 

We  see,  then,  that  of  the  countries  included  in  the  con- 
ventional grand  tour,  Germany  was  the  one  with  which 
the  average  tourist  gained  the  least  accurate  acquaintance. 
Through  the  medium  of  his  bad  French  he  possibly  learned 
at  first-hand  some  items  of  interest  about  cities  and  towns 
from  Germans  of  the  upper  classes.  But  his  lack  of  acquain- 
tance with  the  vernacular  made  him  entirely  incompetent 
to  gather  information  from  the  rank  and  file  of  the  people, 
or  even  to  pronounce  correctly  the  names  of  the  towns  he 
passed  through.^ 

Naturally,  he  had  no  acquaintance  whatever  with  German 
literature.  Even  as  late  as  1824,  Carljde  remarked  in  the 
Preface  to  his  translation  of  "Wilhelm  Meister":  "Hith- 
erto our  literary  intercourse  with  that  nation  has  been 
very  slight  and  precarious."  And  Leslie  Stephen  has 
sho\sm  in  detail  how  painfully  slow  Englishmen  were  in 
getting  a  working  acquaintance  with  the  German  language. 
In  the  eighteenth  century  they  could  therefore  hardly  dis- 
cern signs  of  promise  in  a  literature  they  could  not  read. 

English  toiirists  may,  indeed,  be  pardoned  for  neglect- 
ing to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  German,  when  Germans  of 
high  social  standing  "considered  it  as  an  accomplishment 
to  be  imable  to  express  themselves  in  the  language  of  their 
country,"  and  took  pains  to  keep  their  children  ignorant  of 
their  native  tongue  so  that  it  might  not  hurt  their  pronun- 
ciation of  French.^    Riesbeck  comments  very  freely  upon 



the  German  nobles,  upon  their  extravagance,  their  "ridic- 
ulous passion  for  titles,"  their  fondness  for  horses,  equi- 
pages, and  servants,  and  upon  the  advantage  to  themselves 
"if  they  could  bring  over  from  France  something  more  be- 
coming than  a  stiff  carriage,  an  affected  walk,  a  taste 
for  gaming,  and  a  wretched  jargon."  '  Tourists  found, 
even  after  the  middle  of  the  century,  that  one  book  out  of 
every  ten  printed  in  Germany  was  in  French. 

It  is  true,  too,  that  the  great  period  of  German  literature 
is  subsequent  to  the  period  that  chiefly  occupies  us.  But 
with  Gellert  and  Klopstock  and  Hagedom  and  Wieland 
and  Lessing,  there  was  already  a  brilliant  beginning  — 
altogether  unsuspected  by  the  passing  tourist.  It  is,  in- 
deed, a  significant  fact  that  until  after  the  French  Revolu- 
tion English  literature,  apart  from  a  few  hymns,  owes  little 
or  nothing  to  German.  In  Germany,  on  the  other  hand,  in 
the  second  half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  English  literature 
received  much  attention,  and  sometimes  it  was  preferred 
to  French.2  In  cultured  society,  particularly  at  Dresden 
and  Hamburg,  English  tourists  were  agreeably  surprised 
to  be  addressed  now  and  then  in  tolerable  English,  though 
French  remained  the  conventional  language  of  courtiers  and 
hotel  waiters  until  the  nineteenth  century  was  well  ad- 

For  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  Nugent  sums 
up  the  linguistic  situation  in  a  few  words:  "Latin  and 
French  are  the  most  useful  for  those  that  travel  through 
Germany,  most  people  of  any  common  education  being 
acquainted  with  one  of  these  two  languages.  For  a  German 
that  understands  only  his  mother-tongue  is  looked  on  as  a 
person  that  has  not  common  breeding;  neither  is  it  enough 
for  him  to  understand  Latin :  the  knowledge  of  the  French 
tongue  is  also  requisite,  if  he  designs  to  pass  for  one  that 
has  had  a  polite  education.  Hence  it  comes,  that  there  is 
no  country  in  the  world  where  there  is  such  a  vast  number 
of  masters  of  language,  especially  for  the  French,  who  pick 
up  a  very  comfortable  living.  Numbers  of  them,  particu- 
larly in  the  south  part  of  Germany,  pique  themselves  also 



for  understanding  Italian;  and  even  the  English  tongue  of 
late  has  begun  to  be  cultivated,  especially  in  Upper  and 
Lower  Saxony."  ^ 

English  tourists  could,  doubtless,  with  no  great  difficulty, 
get  on  after  a  fashion  in  Germany.  But  most  Englishmen 
had  little  curiosity  for  what  was  most  characteristic.  The 
very  features  of  the  older  Germany  that  make  it  peculiarly 
attractive  to  toiuists  in  our  time  were  largely  repellent  to 
tourists  of  the  eighteenth  century.  As  a  result,  the  great 
stream  of  English  travel  flowed  rapidly  through  the  ordinary 
channels  and  took  little  with  it. 

As  already  observed,  all  that  particularly  interested  the 
eighteenth-century  tourist  was  to  be  found  in  the  towns 
and  cities.  And  this  was  natural.  Germany,  taken  as  a 
whole,  was  poor,  and  only  in  the  cities  and  in  the  numerous 
little  courts  did  evidence  of  wealth  appear.  The  rural 
hamlets  and  the  houses  of  the  peasantry  were,  as  a  rule, 
destitute  of  comfort.  But  in  the  great  towns,  like  Hamburg 
and  Frankfort-on-the-Main  and  Leipsic  and  Dresden  and 
Berlin,  notwithstanding  the  prevailing  standards  of  plain 
living,  many  representatives  of  the  middle  classes  had 
risen  in  wealth  and  influence,  and  were  fond  of  luxury  and 
display.  In  some  cases  they  had  eagerly  given  themselves 
to  the  delights  of  literature  and  philosophy.  Those  who 
were  just  below  the  nobility  in  rank  had,  indeed,  copied  the 
fashions  and  the  vices  of  their  social  superiors ;  but,  as  never 
before  since  the  Revival  of  Learning,  a  multitude  of  men 
and  women  of  position  and  influence  were  devoted  to  culture. 
At  the  universities,  particularly  at  Gottingen  and  Leipsic 
and  Jena,  there  was  a  strange  new  life.  In  the  highest 
circles,  too,  culture  became  the  fashion,  —  not  merely  in 
the  circle  surrounding  Frederick  the  Great,  but  in  scores  of 
little  courts  scattered  about  the  country,  —  Weimar,  Gotha, 
Anspach,  Darmstadt,  Meiningen. 

But  this  intense  intellectual  activity  was  by  no  means 
uniformly  distributed.  While  the  Protestant  states  of  the 
North  were  thrilling  with  the  new  spirit,  the  Catholic 
states  of  the  South  were  relatively  apathetic.    And  then, 



too,  throughout  the  country  the  old  inherited  divisions 
between  the  ranks  of  society  made  close  relations  between 
the  nobility  and  the  commercial  classes  —  whatever  their 
intellectual  attainments  —  the  exception  rather  than  the 
rule.  In  some  cases  German  princes  and  nobles  seemed  to 
brush  aside  all  distinctions  of  rank  and  to  associate  on 
equal  terms  with  scholars  and  men  of  letters,  but  such 
condescension,  however  genuine  and  honorable,  was  by^no 
means  a  matter  of  course. 

The  truth  is,  that  all  German  higher  society,  like  the 
society  of  France  and  Italy,  was  extremely  artificial.  But 
in  greater  measure  than  any  other  part  of  Europe  com- 
monly visited  by  tourists  Germany  dehghted  in  elaborate 
ceremony,  in  petty  dignities,  in  high-sounding  titles,  which 
could  not  be  omitted  without  causing  a  social  cataclysm. 
Until  the  sentimentaHsm  of  the  Werther  period  —  after 
1774  —  brought  in  its  train  for  a  time  a  sort  of  artificial 
return  to  simplicity  in  dress  and  manners,  well-to-do  so- 
ciety was  tightly  held  in  the  bands  of  a  rigid  conven- 

Into  society  such  as  this  the  English  tourist  in  Germany 
came,  and,  if  properly  introduced,  commonly  received  a 
warm  welcome.  Riesbeck  comments  upon  the  amazing 
popularity  of  the  EngHsh  in  Germany  about  1780.  The 
Mecklenburghers  especially,  says  he,  have  a  fondness  and 
veneration  for  them  that  approaches  to  superstition.^ 
Germans  in  the  eighteenth  century  were  still  true  to  their 
ancient  reputation  as  good  providers;  and  their  hospi- 
tality imposed  upon  a  guest  no  light  burden.  "Their  en- 
tertainments," says  Nugent,  "are  perfect  banquets,  where 
they  are  full  of  their  ceremonies,  and  so  prodigal  of  their 
liquor  and  provisions  as  to  give  rather  uneasiness  than 
pleasure  to  their  guests."  ^ 


After  this  rapid  survey  of  the  conditions  of  life  in  Ger- 
many, we  may  now  glance  at  a  few,  and  only  a  few,  repre- 



sentative  German  cities  that  English  tourists  were  likely 
to  see,  —  at  least  in  passing. .  These  cities,  needless  to  say, 
have  in  most  cases  been  greatly  changed  in  the  course  of 
a  century  or  more.  In  our  day  by  far  the  greater  propor- 
tion of  German  cities  have  long  since  transformed  their 
ancient  encircling  defenses  into  well-shaded  promenades. 
In  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  we  are  told:  "Al- 
most all  the  towns  in  Germany  have  old  fortifications,  which 
consist  only  of  a  wall  or  rampart  faced  with  brick,  a  trench 
ftdl  of  water,  and  gates  defended  by  half  moons ;  but  few  are 
able  to  hold  out  a  siege."  ^  But  even  to-day,  notwithstand- 
ing the  amazing  transformations  of  the  last  half -century, 
one  still  finds  in  the  older  portions  of  Braunschweig,  of 
Hildesheim,  of  Nuremberg,  of  Augsburg,  of  Karlsruhe,  of 
Vienna,  and  of  scores  of  other  towns,  the  very  streets,  al- 
most unchanged,  that  met  the  view  of  the  eighteenth-cen- 
tury tourist.  Many  cities  in  Germany  a  century  and  a  half 
ago  had  much  the  same  relative  importance  that  they  have 
to-day,  but  the  modem  industrial  revolution  has  greatly 
enlarged  and  strangely  metamorphosed  some  towns  that 
in  the  eighteenth  century  hardly  existed  on  the  map. 

Where  to  begin  and  where  to  end  our  survey  of  German 
cities  cannot  be  arbitrarily  prescribed,  but  if  we  take  the 
eighteenth-century  tourist  as  our  guide,  we  must  in  any 
case  single  out  three  or  four  cities  in  Austrian  territory  for 
special  mention  and  reserve  our  remaining  space  for  some 
of  the  most  notable  cities  within  the  limits  of  the  present 
German  Empire. 

The  tourist  going  from  Italy  over  the  Brenner  was  bound 
to  visit  Innsbruck,  charmingly  situated  on  the  Inn,  with 
the  mountain  wall  guarding  the  little  city.  Some  of  the 
arcaded  streets  with  their  stately  houses  reminded  him  of 
Italy.  Here  he  was  certain  to  see  the  famous  Golden  Roof 
and  in  the  Hofkirche  the  wonderful  monument  of  Kaiser 
Maximilian  I,  with  its  array  of  life-size  bronze  statues. 
With  a  little  effort  he  could  also  visit  Castle  Amras  in  the 
vicinity  and  see  the  great  collection  of  artistic  objects  that 
are  now  among  the  chief  treasures  of  Vienna. 



From  Innsbruck  one  could  take  the  very  rough  coaching- 
road  to  Augsburg,  a  distance  of  ninety-four  miles,  and  pro- 
ceed thence  through  Donauworth  and  Nuremberg  to 
Hamburg.  But  as  that  plan  would  leave  out  Vienna,  the 
tourist  frequently  went  direct  from  Venice  to  Vienna,  by 
one  of  the  routes  already  outlined. 

The  influence  of  Vienna  was  greater  than  its  size  would 
appear  to  warrant.  Baron  Riesbeck  about  1780  ranked 
it  in  population  along  with  Naples,  but  after  Constanti- 
nople, London,  and  Paris.  Few  cities  in  Europe  were  more 
attractive  to  the  tourist.  The  care-free  temper  of  the  Aus- 
trian capital  made  the  pleasure-seeking  traveler  feel  in- 
stantly at  home.  "Vienna,"  says  Sherlock,  "is  perhaps  the 
best  city  in  Europe  to  teach  a  young  traveller  the  manners 
of  the  great  world :  at  his  arrival  he  will  be  introduced  into 
all  the  best  houses;  and  if  he  is  an  EngHshman,  he  will 
meet  with  the  most  flattering  reception.  "^  And  even  the 
usually  cynical  Dr.  Moore  says  with  enthusiasm:  "I  im- 
agine there  is  no  city  in  Europe  where  a  young  gentleman, 
after  his  university  education  is  finished,  can  pass  a  year 
with  so  great  advantage;  because,  if  properly  recom- 
mended, he  may  mix  on  an  easy  footing  with  people  of 
rank  and  have  opportunities  of  improving  by  the  conver- 
sation of  sensible  men  and  accomplished  women.  In  no 
capital  could  he  see  fewer  examples,  or  have  fewer  oppor- 
tunities, of  deep  gambling,  open  profligacy,  or  gross  de- 
bauchery." 2  Moore's  eulogy  is  surely  not  stinted.  We 
may  well  believe  that  any  one  bent  upon  vicious  amuse- 
ment would  have  had  no  long  search  in  Vienna  to  find  what 
he  sought.  Some  tourists  even  counted  it  among  the  most 
dissolute  cities  in  Europe. 

In  general,  the  atmosphere  in  the  upper  ranks  of  society 
was  more  French  than  German.  French  was  heard  on  every 
side ;  French  fashions  were  the  rtde  in  dress ; '  and  French 
manners  admirably  suited  the  temper  of  the  gay  and  ex- 
travagant throngs  that  crowded  the  Viennese  salons. 
Strangers  were  impressed  with  the  lavish  display  of  wealth. 
"There  is  no  place  in  the  world,"  says  Nugent,  "where 



people  live  more  luxuriously  than  at  Vienna.  Their 
chief  diversion  is  feasting  and  carousing,  on  which  occa- 
sions they  are  extremely  well  served  with  wine  and  eatables. 
People  of  fortune  will  have  eighteen  or  twenty  sorts  of 
wines  at  their  tables,  and  a  note  is  laid  on  every  plate  men- 
tioning every  sort  of  wine  that  may  be  called  for."  In  the 
winter,  he  remarks,  there  is  much  driving  about  in  sledges 
of  fantastic  shapes.^  "  In  the  short  time  I  have  been  here," 
says  Baron  Riesbeck,  "I  have  seen  more  splendid  equi- 
pages and  horses  than  there  are  in  all  Paris.  Our  fashions 
prevail  here  universally.  Dressed  dolls  are  regularly  sent 
from  Paris  for  the  purpose  of  teaching  the  women  how  to 
put  on  their  gowns  and  dress  their  heads.  Even  the  men 
from  time  to  time  get  memoranda  from  Paris,  and  lay 
them  before  their  taylors  and  hair-dressers."  ^ 

In  view  of  the  social  attractions  of  Vienna  we  can  well 
believe  Dr.  Moore,  when  he  says:  "  I  never  passed  my  time 
more  agreeably  than  since  I  came  to  Vienna.  There  is  not 
such  a  constant  round  of  amusements  as  to  fill  up  a  man's 
time  without  any  plan  or  occupation  of  his  own;  and  yet 
there  is  enough  to  satisfy  any  mind  not  perfectly  vacant 
and  dependent  on  external  objects.  —  We  dine  abroad  two 
or  three  times  a  week.  We  sometimes  see  a  little  play,  but 
never  any  deep  gambling."  ^ 

He  might  have  added  that  Vienna,  though  lagging  be- 
hind in  some  particulars,  was  a  leader  in  music  and  the 
drama.  One  instinctively  thinks  of  Haydn  and  Mozart  and 
Metastasio  and  the  other  notable  names  of  the  little  world 
that  prospered  by  giving  pleasure  to  others.  Vienna  shared 
with  Munich  and  Dresden  the  distinction  of  presenting 
Italian  opera  most  brilliantly.  And  the  Vienna  theater, 
particularly  in  the  last  quarter  of  the  century,  was  famous 
throughout  Europe. 

But  Vienna  in  the  eighteenth  century,  with  all  its  at- 
tractions, was  by  no  means  the  palatial  city  that  one  sees 
to-day.  Then  as  now  the  vast  cathedral  of  St.  Stephen, 
with  its  lofty  spire,  dominated  the  whole  region,  and  there 
were  other  notable  structures.    But  even  in  the  last  quar- 



ter  of  the  century  Baron  Riesbeck  complains:  "There  are 
scarce  eight  buildings  in  the  whole  town  which  can  be 
called  beautiful  or  magnificent.  .  .  .  The  Emperor's  pal- 
ace is  an  old  black  building,  that  has  neither  beauty  nor 
stateliness.  .  .  .  There  are  hardly  three  squares  or  places 
here  which  make  any  figure  at  all."  ^  Where  the  great 
promenades,  adorned  with  some  of  the  stateliest  buildings 
in  Europe,  now  delight  the  eye  of  the  tourist,  an  encircling 
wall  shut  in  the  narrow  and  unimpressive  streets.  The 
palaces  of  the  nobility  were  richly  furnished,  but  with 
more  expense  than  taste.  One  of  the  most  attractive,  just 
outside  the  old  inner  city,  was  the  Liechtenstein  Palace, 
with  its  extensive  gardens  and  its  great  picture  gallery, 
which  to  this  day  is  the  most  notable  private  collection  in 
Vienna.  The  houses  of  ordinary  citizens  were  "built  of 
stone,  generally  five  or  six  stories  high."  ^  By  a  singular 
provision,  "the  second  floor  of  every  house"  was  regarded 
as  the  property  of  the  sovereign  and  assigned  to  officers 
or  dependents  of  the  court  or  to  any  one  else.  "This  is 
the  reason,"  says  Nugent,  "there  is  no  other  part  of  Ger- 
many where  lodging  is  so  dear  as  at  Vienna."  ' 

In  the  eighteenth  century  the  inns  of  the  city  had  a  well- 
deserved  reputation  for  being  very  good  but  also  very 
expensive.  The  best  known  were  The  Court  of  Bavaria,  the 
Golden  Crown,  the  Black  Eagle,  the  Black  Elephant. 
Tourists  who  wished  to  practice  economy  were  advised  to 
live  in  private  houses  if  they  intended  to  make  any  stay  in 
the  capital.*  But  lodgings  were  by  no  means  easy  to  find: 
"I  ran  about  the  city,"  says  Baron  Riesbeck,  "three  whole 
days  with  my  laquais  de  place,  before  I  could  get  housed. 
It  is  not  here  as  at  Paris,  where  there  is  an  office  in  every 
part  of  the  city,  giving  an  account  of  what  houses  or 
lodgings  are  to  be  let,  and  for  what  price."  ^  Street  doors 
were  locked  after  ten  at  night,  and  any  one  entering  after 
that  hour  was  expected  to  fee  the  porter  —  a  custom  that 
has  siu^ived  to  our  own  time. 

The  suburbs  were  more  populous  than  the  city,^  but  ill- 
paved  and  meanly  built.    Best  worth  seeing  was  the  Palace 



of  Schonbninn,  with  its  famous  gardens.  Most  popular 
as  a  pleasure-ground  was  the  great  Prater,^  bordering  the 
Danube,  where  all  the  society  of  Vienna  appeared  in  carved 
gilt  coaches  and,  along  with  throngs  of  humbler  folk, 
watched  the  display  of  fireworks  of  a  summer  evening. 

When  the  tourist  had  completed  the  social  round  and 
had  explored  some  of  the  charming  environs  of  Vienna, 
he  was  usually  ready  to  move  toward  Munich  and  Augs- 
burg and  Nuremberg  or  toward  Prague  and  Dresden,  Leip- 
sic  and  Berlin.  An  occasional  tourist  made  his  way  down 
the  Danube  to  Pressburg  or  Buda-Pesth,  or  even  farther, 
but  the  normal  tourist  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  If  he  took 
the  road  toward  Munich,  he  could  with  a  sHght  detour  see 
some  of  the  mountain  regions  now  counted  among  the  most 
attractive  in  Europe.  But  a  century  and  a  half  ago  the 
traveler  who  delayed  among  the  mountains  south  of  Salz- 
burg or  in  the  Tyrol  commonly  had  no  great  desire  to 
repeat  his  experience. 

Salzburg  was  a  convenient  resting-place,  and  was 
thought  to  be  worth  seeing,  though  it  did  not  afford  much 
social  amusement,  as  the  inhabitants  mostly  kept  aloof 
from  strangers.2  51^^^  {^  behind  its  fortifications,  the 
town,  with  its  high  houses  built  all  of  stone,  was  regarded 
as  "very  handsome."  And  as  for  the  cathedral,  a  rather 
feeble  imitation  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  travelers  pronounced 
it  "a  magnificent  building  of  freestone,  which  may  be  reck- 
oned the  completest  in  Germany"  I^  Even  Baron  Ries- 
beck  thought  it  the  handsomest  edifice  he  had  seen  since 
he  left  Paris.^  But  for  the  marvelous  beauty  of  the  situa- 
tion, with  the  castle-crowned  hill  behind  the  city,  the  glacial 
river  rushing  past  the  ancient  walls,  and  the  mighty  Salz- 
burg Alps  towering  in  the  distance,  the  eighteenth-century 
tourist  had  far  less  appreciation  than  has  the  tourist  of  our 

On  leaving  Salzburg,  the  first  place  of  importance  after 
entering  Bavaria  was  Munich.  Throughout  the  eight- 
eenth century  Munich  was  a  small  walled  city  of  very 
moderate  architectural  pretensions.     Besides  the  famous 



Frauenkirche  there  was  comparatively  little  of  special  note. 
The  great  transformation  which,  under  Ludwig  I  and  his 
successors,  has  made  Munich  one  of  the  handsomest  cities 
of  Europe,  had  not  even  begun.  None  of  the  great  mu- 
seums or  art  galleries  that  are  now  the  glory  of  the  city  had 
been  founded.  But  tourists  of  the  seventeenth  and  eight- 
eenth centuries  lavish  praises  upon  the  city.  The  Elec- 
tor's Palace  was  pronounced  a  "superb  structure."  Even 
the  matter-of-fact  Nugent  says  with  enthusiasm:  "The 
splendour  and  beauty  of  its  buildings,  both  public  and 
private,  and  the  magnificence  of  its  churches  and  convents 
are  such  that  it  surpasses  anything  in  Germany  for  the 
bigness."  ^ 

As  late  as  17  71  the  population  did  not  exceed  thirty-one 
thousand.  But  the  social  life  at  Munich  was  attractive,  — 
in  some  respects  too  attractive ;  ^  and  the  opportunity  to 
hear  good  music,  particularly  opera,  was  one  of  the  best  in 

Northwest  of  Munich  a  few  hours'  journey  was  Augs- 
burg, the  ancient  free  imperial  city  which  in  the  Middle 
Ages  shared  with  Nuremberg  the  great  trade  between  the 
north  and  the  south  of  Europe.  The  change  in  trade  routes 
after  the  discovery  of  America,  and  the  devastation  of 
repeated  wars,  reduced  Augsburg  to  comparative  insignifi- 
cance. But  tourists  on  their  way  up  from  Munich  to 
Nuremberg  and  Frankfort  commonly  passed  through  Augs- 
burg and  saw  the  principal  sights  —  the  stately  Maximilian- 
strasse,  with  its  fountains,  the  house  of  the  Fuggers,  the 
merchant  princes  of  Europe,  the  ancient  cathedral,  the 
town-house  with  its  famous  Golden  Hall,  and  everywhere 
the  picturesque  swinging  signs  of  ornamental  ironwork. 

An  occasional  tourist  made  his  way  westward  to  Ulm, 
for  the  sake  of  seeing  the  famous  cathedral,  but  as  a  rule 
travelers  pushed  on  to  Nuremberg  and  Frankfort.  Among 
the  cities  of  Germany,  Nuremberg  for  centuries  enjoyed 
special  distinction.  A  free  imperial  city,  and  the  depository 
of  the  imperial  regalia,  its  patrician  rulers  were  proud 
of  its  name  and  its  influence.     Its  situation  on  the  old 



trade  route  through  Augsburg  to  Italy  and  the  East 
gave  the  city  exceptional  prosperity  during  the  Middle 
Ages  and  particularly  in  the  fifteenth  and  early  sixteenth 
centuries.  Along  with  wealth  came  a  wonderful  artistic 
development,  brilliantly  illustrated  by  the  work  of  Al- 
brecht  Durcr,  Adam  KrafTt,  Veit  Stoss,  and  Peter  Vischer. 

But,  as  in  the  case  of  Augsburg,  the  change  in  the 
trade  routes  and  the  disasters  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War 
well-nigh  ruined  Nuremberg.  Throughout  the  eight- 
eenth century  it  was  much  depressed.  The  population 
dwindled  sadly,  and  many  hundreds  of  houses  stood 
empty.  But  it  still  had  a  considerable  trade,  and  it  pre- 
served much  of  the  aristocratic  temper  of  preceding  gen- 
erations. "There  arc,"  says  Nugent,  "several  distin- 
guished families  in  Nurenbcrg,  which  are  honoured  with 
the  title  of  Patricians.  Some  of  them  are  very  rich,  but 
so  haughty  that  nobody  visits  them,  and  they  scarce 
visit  one  another.  They  are  apt  to  ape  the  noble  Vene- 
tians in  everything,  and  to  tyrannize  over  the  people. 
They  wear  pointed  hats  and  monstrous  bushy  ruffs."  ^ 
The  imitation  of  Venetian  aristocratic  exclusiveness 
brought  it  about  that  social  life  in  Nuremberg  had  no 
such  freedom  as  in  Frankfort-on-the-Main,  in  Ham- 
burg, or  in  Berlin.  "Conversation  with  the  fair  sex," 
says  Keysler,  "is  under  much  greater  restraints  in  Nurcn- 
berg  than  in  most  other  large  cities.  .  .  .  And  although 
a  foreigner  be  recommended  to  a  Nurenbergcr  in  the 
strongest  manner,  he  will  very,  seldom  invite  him  to 
his  house  if  he  has  a  wife  or  daughter,  but  is  so  mistrust- 
ful that  he  rather  chuses  to  carry  him  to  a  tavern,  and 
there  do  him  the  honour  of  a  rausche,  i.e.,  make  him 
drunk."  ^ 

After  Keysler's  day  social  lines  were  somewhat  less 
strictly  drawn,  but  new  ideas  made  slow  progress  in 
Nuremberg.  Many  things  were  typically  medieval. 
"At  each  gate  of  the  city,"  we  are  told,  "a  man  is  em- 
ployed every  night  to  go  to  the  top  of  a  high  tower  from 
whence  he  sounds  a  frightful  hora,  to  call  people  home 



from  the  suburbs,  and  at  the  second  blast  every  one, 
except  the  patricians,  must  hasten  to  town,  or  be  shut 
out."  ' 

In  our  day,  when  one  looking  out  from  the  ancient 
Burg  sees  in  the  suburbs  the  tall  smoking  shafts  of  great 
factories  that  have  made  Nuremberg  the  most  prosper- 
ous commercial  city  in  southern  Germany,  one  can  hardly 
realize  how  short  is  the  time  that  separates  us  from  the 
older  order. 

From  Nuremberg  the  tourist  who  was  making  his 
way  to  the  Rhine  region  was  likely  to  go  to  Frankfort- 
on-thc-Main.  This  old  free  city,  so  exquisitely  described 
by  Goethe,  was  on  the  great  highroads  leading  to  every 
part  of  Germany.  Like  Hamburg,  it  had  kept  much  of 
its  old  prosperity  and  had  an  enviable  reputation  through- 
out Europe  for  the  excellence  of  its  inns  and  the  luxury 
in  which  the  best  families  lived.  There  was,  indeed,  an 
old-fashioned  air  about  Frankfort,  an  abiding,  pervasive 
survival  of  the  many  centuries  that  had  witnessed  the  cor- 
onation of  the  rulers  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  within  the 
ancient  Romer.  One  recalls  the  suits  of  clothes  that 
Goethe  brought  with  him  from  Frankfort  to  Leipsic, 
when  he  went  to  the  university,  and  the  discovery  he  made 
that  he  was  dressed  in  the  style  of  an  earlier  generation. 

But  Frankfort  was  one  of  the  most  interesting  cities 
in  Germany,  and  in  some  particulars  one  of  the  most  en- 
lightened. Following  old  traditions,  the  municipality 
permitted  a  reasonaVjlc  freedom  of  speech  and  encouraged 
an  active  trade.  Even  in  Coryate's  time  it  was  a  great 
center  for  booksellers.  Says  he,  "I  went  to  the  Bookesel- 
lers  streete,  where  I  saw  such  infinite  abundance  of  bookes, 
that  I  greatly  admired  it.  For  this  street  far  excelleth 
Paules  Churchyard  in  London,  Saint  James  streete  in 
Paris,  the  Merceria  of  Venice,  and  all  whatsoever  else  that 
I  sawe  in  my  travels."'  The  supremacy  in  the  publish- 
ing of  books  gradually  passed  to  Leipsic,  but  the  great 
fair  of  Frankfort  drew  large  numbers  of  French  and 
German  merchants  every  year. 



Tourists  of  all  sorts  found  their  way  to  Frankfort, 
and  with  little  difficulty  entered  the  social  life  of  the 
city.  We  may  note  in  passing  that  the  Jews  at  Frank- 
fort were  very  numerous.^  As  in  many  other  German 
cities,  "they  are  confined,"  says  Nugent,  "to  a  particu- 
lar part  of  the  town,  and  go  about  from  tavern  to  tavern 
selling  things  to  strangers.  The  Christians  have  a  great 
contempt  for  these  wretches,  putting  them  to  the  vilest 
drudgeries,  and  particularly  employing  them  in  extin- 
guishing fires.  .  .  .  They  are  obliged  to  wear  a  piece  of 
yellow  cloth,  to  distinguish  them  from  the  other  inhab- 
itants." ^  This  treatment  appears  sufficiently  humiliating, 
but  it  was  far  more  liberal  than  was  the  case  at  Augs- 
burg. There,  says  Nugent,  "the  Jews  are  not  allowed 
to  live  in  the  city,  but  in  the  neighboring  villages,  and  are 
obliged  to  pay  a  florin  an  hour  when  they  resort  hither."  ^ 

But  we  must  pass  on  to  the  Rhine.  Few  tourists  whose 
route  brought  them  near  the  great  river  omitted  the 
trip  down  the  Rhine.  One  could,  as  already  remarked, 
return  from  Italy  through  Geneva  and  Basel  and  descend 
the  Rhine,  going  as  far  as  the  cities  of  Holland.  No  other 
river  journey  in  Europe  offered  more  of  scenic  and  his- 
toric interest  or  such  an  array  of  interesting  cities  — 
Strassburg,  Spires,  Worms,  Mannheim,  with  Heidelberg 
a  little  to  the  east,  Mainz,  with  Frankfort  and  Wiesbaden 
within  easy  driving  distance,  Coblenz,  Bonn,  Cologne, 
Diisseldorf, —  to  cite  but  a  few. 

Popular  as  the  journey  through  the  Rhine  region  was, 
it  was  very  primitive  in  comparison  with  the  luxurious 
excursion  of  to-day.  Up  stream,  indeed,  against  the 
swift  current,  progress  was  very  slow.  In  the  course  of 
a  century  or  more  there  has  been  a  great  change  in  the 
appearance  of  the  districts  along  the  banks.  Then  as 
now  vineyards  covered  the  hills;  but  the  aspect  of  the 
towns  was  very  old-fashioned.  Most  of  them  were  walled. 
Many  had  suffered  severely  in  war.  Almost  all  were 
picturesque  and  interesting,  but  few  of  them  were  parti- 
cularly inviting  on  close  inspection.     In  many  cases  the 



streets  were  badly  paved  and  not  too  clean,  and  the  an- 
cient houses  were  out  of  repair.  The  eighteenth  century- 
did  not  greatly  prize  the  survivals  of  the  Middle  Ages 
that  lend  a  peculiar  charm  to  the  valley  of  the  Rhine. 

Some  change  in  the  aspect  of  these  old  towns  might  be 
expected  in  the  course  of  three  or  four  generations.  But 
even  when  allowance  is  made  for  reasonable  growth, 
it  seems  hardly  credible  that  the  lapse  of  little  more  than 
a  century  could  have  wrought  such  transformations  as  are 
found  in  these  cities  as  they  appear  to-day  and  as  they 
are  pictured  in  the  plates  that  illustrate  Cogan's  de- 
scription of  the  Rhine  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

But  there  was  no  lack  of  material  for  the  sight-seer 
of  a  centtu-y  and  a  half  ago.  Strassburg,^  Spires,  and 
Worms  offered  their  great  cathedrals;  and  a  short  detour 
to  the  east,  on  the  way  down  from  Basel  to  Strassburg, 
brought  one  to  the  old  university  town  of  Freiburg,^ 
with  its  wooded  hills  and  its  fascinating  cathedral.  More 
generally  admired  in  the  period  of  the  grand  tour  was 
Mannheim.  Eighteenth-century  taste  regarded  Mann- 
heim, with  its  straight  streets  crossing  one  another  at 
right  angles,  as  one  of  the  most  beautiful  cities  in  Ger- 
many. Bombarded  and  destroyed  by  the  French  in  1689 
along  with  other  cities  of  the  Upper  Rhine,  it  was  rebuilt 
ten  years  later  with  appalling  regularity.  Between  1720 
and  1739  the  Elector  of  the  Palatinate  erected  here  a  huge 
palace  in  which  one  of  the  most  notable  collections  of  art 
and  antiquities  in  Germany  was  housed.  Its  chief  rivals 
were  at  Diisseldorf  and  at  Dresden.  Unless  too  hurried, 
the  tourist  who  could  present  suitable  credentials  usually 
arranged  to  see  the  Mannheim  Collection,  but  if  he  had 
neglected  to  attend  to  the  formalities  in  advance,  the  loss 
of  time  was  usually  too  great. 

A  few  miles  below  Mannheim,  and  almost  opposite 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Main,  was  the  ancient  city  of  Mainz. 
In  many  particulars  it  contrasted  unfavorably  with  the 
neighboring  Frankfort.  From  a  distance  it  made  a  brave 
showing,  with  its  towers,  its  red  roofs,  and  the  huge  mass 



of  the  cathedral.  But  the  narrow,  irregular,  and  badly 
paved  streets,  the  decayed  medieval  buildings,  and  the 
general  air  of  neglect  did  not  invite  a  protracted  sojourn. 
The  entire  spirit  of  the  place  was  different  from  that  of 
Frankfort.  There  a  merchant  might  be  a  magistrate 
and  move  in  the  best  circles.  But  at  Mainz  any  one  in 
commercial  life  was  excluded  with  contempt  from  the 
society  of  the  gentry.  French  influence  was  strong  at 
Mainz,  and  French  was  the  favored  speech  among  all  who 
enjoyed  high  social  standing. 

We  can  spare  but  a  word  for  most  of  the  other  towns 
along  the  Rhine.  In  our  day  Bingen  is  particularly  well 
known.  In  the  eighteenth  century  it  was  a  mere  village, 
chiefly  notable  because  a  toll  was  demanded  here  from 
every  vessel  going  up  or  down  the  Rhine. 

The  next  town  particularly  worthy  of  note  was  Coblenz, 
now  one  of  the  best-built  and  most  attractive  of  the  cities 
in  the  entire  valley.  Charmingly  situated  at  the  point 
where  the  Mosel  joins  the  Rhine,  Coblenz  was  one  of  the 
most  historic  of  the  cities  between  Mainz  and  Cologne. 
The  town  had  considerable  wealth  but  was  not  handsome. 
"The  houses  in  general"  were  "antiquated  and  the  pave- 
ment irregular."  ^  But  as  Coblenz  had  suffered  severely 
during  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  and  in  1688  was  almost 
entirely  destroyed,  though  not  captured,  by  the  French 
when  they  ravaged  the  Rhineland,  it  may  well  have 
been  somewhat  dingy  and  uninviting.  Tomists  going 
up  or  down  the  Rhine,  or  traversing  the  route  between 
Luxemburg  and  Coblenz  by  way  of  Trier  and  through 
the  Mosel  Valley,  perforce  made  a  short  stay  at  Coblenz. 
To  Coblenz  flocked  the  French  nobility  after  the  out- 
break of  the  Revolution  and  there  lived  for  months  — 
idle  and  ungratefid  —  on  the  bounty  of  the  Elector. 
But  for  the  ordinary  sight-seer,  who  cared  little  for  the 
ancient  Church  of  St.  Castor  or  the  Gothic  bridge  over 
the  Mosel,  there  was  not  much  in  the  town  itself  to  in- 
vite a  long  visit. 

Bonn  shared  with  Mainz  and  Cologne  the  distinction 




of  being  "one  of  the  oldest  towns  on  the  Rhine,  but  it 
offered  little  to  tourists.  When  Misson,  making  the  grand 
tour  in  1687  with  his  pupil,  ascended  the  Rhine,  the 
two  went  ashore  at  Bonn.  The  place  appeared  to  them 
"a  little  dirty  city,"  and  they  "could  not  learn  that 
there  was  anything  in  it  to  deserve  their  stay  there."  ^ 
In  Misson's  day  the  university  was  not  yet  founded, 
and  for  the  Romanesque  minster,  with  its  apse  toward 
the  river,  he  had  no  eyes.  But  the  beautiful  situation 
made  Bonn  a  favorite  place  of  residence  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  Nugent  observes  that  it  improves  every  day, 
while  Cologne  is  decaying  .^ 

Cologne  was  visible  from  afar,  and  with  its  walls  and 
towers  was  strikingly  picturesque.  '"Tis  very  rare," 
says  Nugent,  "to  see  so  many  steeples  anywhere  at  once 
as  appear  to  travellers  upon  approaching  this  city."  ^ 
Early  in  the  seventeenth  century  Coryate  thought  the 
market-place  "the  fairest  that  I  saw  in  my  whole  voyage, 
saving  that  of  St.  Marks  street  in  Venice."  ^  But  of  all 
the  places  in  Germany  that  are  now  viewed  by  travelers 
with  admiring  eyes,  Cologne,  even  in  the  second  half 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  called  forth  the  severest  crit- 
icism for  its  beggars,  its  squalor,  its  superstition.  Much 
of  the  city  was  badly  built,  and  many  houses  were  deserted 
and  falling  in  ruins.  Baron  Riesbeck  pronounced  it  in 
every  respect  the  ugliest  town  in  all  Germany.  Grass 
grew  in  the  streets,  which  were  full  of  disgusting  filth. ^ 
Night  and  day  pestilential  stenches  polluted  the  air. 
The  great  medieval  churches,  that  now  give  a  unique 
interest  to  Cologne,  were  out  of  repair  and  bedizened 
with  tawdry  ornaments.  The  cathedral,  left  half-finished 
since  the  Middle  Ages,  was  encumbered  with  houses 
and  traversed  by  one  of  the  city  streets. 

Ancient  fashions  persisted  long  at  Cologne.  A  genera- 
tion before  the  period  we  are  chiefly  considering,  a  traveler 
observes  that  "at  Cologne  the  women  go  veiled,  as  in 
Italy."  ^  As  at  Augsburg  and  some  other  German  cities, 
the  treatment  of  the  Jews  at  Cologne  was  sufficiently 



illiberal.  "Over  against  Cologne  there  is  a  village  called 
Deutz,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Rhine,  inhabited  chiefly 
by  Jews  whom  the  elector  allows  to  live  there,  but  they 
are  not  allowed  to  enter  the  city  without  a  guard."  ^ 

But  especially  suggestive  of  the  poverty-stricken  char- 
acter of  the  city  is  the  picture  drawn  by  a  tourist  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  century:  "A  great  part  of  the  inhab- 
itants are  privileged  beggars,  who  form  here  a  regular 
corporation:  they  sit  upon  rows  of  stools,  placed  in  every 
church,  and  take  precedence  according  to  their  seniority. 
.  .  .  On  the  few  days  of  the  year  when  there  are  no  fes- 
tivals, they  roam  through  the  city  and  besiege  the  travel- 
lers with  an  insolence  and  rudeness  not  to  be  conceived. 
Upon  the  whole,  Cologne  is  at  least  a  century  behind  the 
rest  of  Germany.  Bigotry,  ill-manners,  clownishness, 
slothfulness  are  visible  everywhere;  and  the  speech, 
dress,  ftimiture  of  the  houses,  everything,  in  short,  is 
so  different  from  what  is  seen  in  the  rest  of  Germany, 
that  you  conceive  yourself  in  the  middle  of  a  colony  of 
strangers."  ^ 

A  few  miles  below  Cologne,  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
Rhine,  stood  Diisseldorf,  described  by  Nugent  as  "a 
large,  handsome  city."  ^  Diisseldorf  was  famous  through- 
out Europe ,  for  its  gallery  of  pictures,  particularly  of 
masters  of  the  Dutch  and  Flemish  schools.  Until  1805 
this  collection  was  the  chief  treasure  of  the  Elector's 
Palace  and  drew  great  numbers  of  visitors.  But  in  that 
year  it  was  transferred  to  Munich,  where  it  has  since 

We  have  followed  the  course  of  tourists  from  Vienna 
across  southern  Germany,  and  we  have  outlined  the 
journey  along  the  Rhine.  But  another  route  also  was  very 
popular.  Tourists  often  preferred  to  go  up  from  Vienna 
through  Bohemia  to  Dresden  and  Leipsic  and  Berlin. 
The  journey  through  the  dreary  plains  of  Bohemia  was 
no  great  pleasure,  for  "the  peasants  were  all  in  a  state 
of  vassalage  to  the  nobility,  and  ...  a  brutish  heavy 
kind  of  people,  pretty  much  addicted  to  pilfering  and 



thieving."  ^  But  at  Prague  one  found  a  beautiful  and 
wealthy  city,  with  the  nobility  and  gentry  living  in  lux- 
ury unsurpassed  in  any  other  part  of  Germany.  "As  to 
company  there  is  no  town  in  the  Empire  that  has  a  greater 
choice.  There  are  assemblies  in  the  houses  of  quality 
every  night,  where  they  divert  themselves  with  gaming 
and  crown  the  night  with  good  cheer,  as  pheasants,  orto- 
lans,   trouts,    salmon   and   cray-fish,    with   good   wine."  ^ 

The  old  capital  of  Bohemia  had,  indeed,  no  lack  of 
interest,  with  its  many-arched  medieval  bridge  spanning 
the  Moldau,  its  strong  city  walls  and  towers,  its  great 
ghetto,  and  on  the  heights  overlooking  the  city  and  the 
river  the  historic  palace  of  the  kings  —  the  Hradschin. 
One  might  well  linger  at  Prague,  but  we  cannot  pause 
for  more  detail. 

From  Prague  the  tourist  might  go  to  Eger,  or  perhaps 
halt  for  a  short  stay  at  the  famous  Baths  of  Karlsbad. 
If  his  fancy  led  him  toward  Breslau  he  went  through  Kon- 
iggratz  and  Schweidnitz.  A  well-known  route  from  Eger 
to  Amsterdam  ^  conducted  him  through  Culmbach,  Bam- 
berg,* Wiirzburg,  Aschaffenburg,  to  Frankfort-on-the- 
Main,  and  thence  down  the  Rhine  to  the  Dutch  capital. 

Few  toiuists  journeying  from  Prague  to  Berlin  neg- 
lected to  see  Dresden  and  Leipsic.  Dresden,  the  seat  of 
the  court  of  the  Elector  of  Saxony,  was  counted  by  trav- 
elers of  every  type  as  one  of  the  most  agreeable  cities  in 
Germany.  Situated  on  the  Elbe,  here  spanned  by  a 
monumental  stone  bridge,  and  within  easy  reach  of  charm- 
ing scenery,  it  possessed  attractions  that  since  the  eight- 
eenth centiury  have  in  ever  increasing  measure  made 
it  a  favorite  abode  of  English-speaking  residents.  More 
than  twice  as  large  as  Leipsic,  Dresden  made  far  less 
demand  upon  the  tourist's  piurse.  Says  Mariana  Starke, 
"The  people  are  quiet,  worthy,  and  very  civil  to  foreigners, 
who  live  here  comfortably  at  a  moderate  expense."  ^ 
For  the  majority  of  the  inhabitants  economy  was  made 
necessary  by  the  heavy  btirdens  imposed  by  the  Seven 
Years'  War.     But  the  city  made  a  good  appearance  and 



compared  favorably  with  Vienna.  The  houses  were 
"all  of  freestone,  high  and  substantial;  the  streets  broad, 
straight,  well  paved,  neat,  and  in  the  night  time  well 
lighted."  ^  Many  houses  were  spacious  and  handsomely 
furnished.  The  traveler  who  coiild  afford  the  expense 
found  at  the  Hotel  de  Pologne  an  inn  rivaling  the  best 
in  Europe,  where  one  was  entertained  in  princely  style. 

Nearly  everything  at  Dresden  was  in  fact  the  best  of 
its  kind.  The  court  was  for  a  time  counted  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  in  Europe.  And  the  court  band,  the  theater, 
and  the  dancers  were  maintained  at  vast  expense. ^  For 
the  tourist  of  culture  the  special  attraction  of  Dresden, 
however,  was  the  great  gallery  of  pictures,  unsurpassed 
in  Germany  and  one  of  the  finest  in  Europe.  Before  1760 
it  contained  more  than  two  thousand  pieces,  among  them 
Correggio's  "La  Notte"  and  "Mary  Magdalene,"  and 
Raphael's  Sistine  Madonna.  The  modem  picture-buyer 
smiles  to  note  that  the  collection  was  "valued  at  near 
£500,000."  3  For  the  Sistine  Madonna  the  price  paid  was 
about  225,000  francs. 

But  tourists  were  expected  to  pay  handsomely  for  seeing 
the  treasures  of  Dresden.  Early  in  the  century  Keysler 
suggests  to  those  who  visit  the  famous  "Green  Vault" 
that  "the  fee  for  seeing  this  museum  is  generously  dis- 
charged with  five  or  six  guldens  *  given  the  attendant, 
who  opens  the  doors;  but  the  greatest  part  of  it  goes  to 
the  superintendent,  or  keeper  of  the  museum.  At  the 
entrance  the  shoes  of  such  persons  as  are  admitted  are 
carefully  wiped,  in  order  to  keep  the  place  as  free  as  possible 
from  dirt  or  dust."  ^  And  late  in  the  centtu-y  tourists  were 
advised  that  to  see  the  picture  gallery,  the  treasury,  the 
cabinet  of  antiques,  the  elector's  library,  "it  is  necessary 
over-night  to  send  your  name,  country,  and  quality  to  the 
respective  Directors,  together  with  the  number  of  per- 
sons you  design  bringing,  and  the  hoiirs  at  which  you 
mean  to  come."  ^ 

From  Dresden  a  slight  detour  to  the  northwest  brought 
one  to  Leipsic.     In  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century 



Leipsic  was  a  city  of  no  more  than  about  thirty  thousand 
inhabitants.  One  could  "easily  walk  round  it  in  the 
compass  of  an  hour."  It  was  fortified,  but  the  walls  were 
more  suited  for  a  pleasant  promenade  than  for  defense. 
An  invading  army  would  have  found  rich  spoil  in  Leipsic. 
Tourists  were  particularly  impressed  with  "the  great  mar- 
ket-place, adorned  with  merchants'  houses,  which  look 
like  princely  palaces,  and  make  the  handsomest  figure 
of  any  buildings  of  that  kind  in  Europe."  ^  Much  of  the 
older  Leipsic  still  survives,  with  its  quaint  sixteenth- 
century  Rathhaus,  with  its  houses  "of  stone  or  brick, 
six  or  seven  stories  high,"  and  its  narrow  winding  streets, 
where  a  stranger  speedily  loses  his  way. 

This  "klein  Paris,"  as  Goethe  called  it,  was  famous  for  its 
university  and  for  the  splendor  in  which  the  inhabitants 
lived.  "The  women  dress  vastly  gay,"  says  Nugent, 
"and  are  very  sumptuous  in  respect  to  gold  and  silver  lace 
with  which  they  adorn  their  caps  and  gowns.  .  .  .  There 
is  a  great  ntunber  of  chariots  in  town,  which  belong  to 
physicians,  professors,  or  merchants;  for  the  nobility  are 
not  allowed  to  have  houses  of  their  own  in  this  city."^ 

Much  of  this  display  of  wealth  was  maintained  by  the 
great  fairs,  which  drew  thousands  of  merchants  from  every 
part  of  Europe  and  even  from  Asia.  After  1764,  Leipsic 
won  in  the  competition  with  Frankfort  for  the  supremacy 
in  the  publishing  of  books,  and  has  not  since  been  surpassed 
in  this  field  by  any  other  German  city. 

As  one  result  of  the  prosperity  of  the  city,  the  cost  of 
living  was  high.  "The  students  are  at  great  expence  in 
this  town, "says  Nugent,  "lodging  and  provisions  being  very 
dear;  but  then  they  have  the  advantage  of  mixing  with  the 
best  of  company,  and  acquiring  a  greater  politeness  of 
behaviour  than  in  any  other  German  university."  ^ 

Along  with  her  devotion  to  trade  Leipsic  gloried  in  the 
reputation  of  her  scholars  and  men  of  letters.  Here  Gott- 
sched  ruled  as  literary  dictator  in  his  day.  Here  lived 
Gellert  and  Klopstock,  and,  for  a  time,  the  greatest  of 
German  critics  —  Lessing.    Here  came  Goethe  in  the  pride 



of  his  young  manhood  and  enrolled  his  name  as  a  student. 
Here,  too,  came  Schiller,  and  an  endless  array  of  other  men 
who  are  not  yet  forgotten.  A  city  boasting  all  these  attrac- 
tions not  unnaturally  appealed  to  the  tourist,  and  Leipsic 
was  commonly  included  in  the  list  of  the  eight  or  ten  cities 
thought  best  worth  visiting. 

In  the  very  front  rank  of  these  cities,  stood  Berlin.  Un- 
like France,  Germany  has  never  had  a  capital,  but  even 
in  the  eighteenth  century  Berlin,  though  far  smaller  than 
London  or  Paris  or  Vienna,  may  without  question  be 
ranked  among  the  foremost  cities  of  Europe.  Tourists 
grow  enthusiastic  over  "its  spacious,  beautiful  streets," 
its  "royal  palace,  a  magnificent  structure  of  free-stone," 
the  churches,  the  arsenal,  the  opera  house,  and  the  splendors 
of  the  court,  with  its  throng  of  nobility  and  officers  of  the 
army  —  the  officers  of  Frederick  the  Great.  A  short  drive 
to  the  west  of  Berlin  brought  one  to  Charlottenburg,  with 
its  Schloss  and  its  gardens.  A  few  miles  farther  on  was 
Potsdam,  where  Frederick  gathered  about  him  some  of  the 
most  brilliant  minds  of  Europe. 

But  though  regarded  as  "certainly  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful cities  in  Europe,"  ^  Berlin  was  very  far  from  being  the 
great  and  imposing  city  that  one  sees  to-day.  Indeed,  one 
who  was  familiar  with  Berlin  only  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago 
would  hardly  recognize  the  present  city.  In  the  last  quarter 
of  the  eighteenth  century  Dr.  Moore  remarks:  "There 
are  a  few  very  magnificent  buildings  in  this  town.  The  rest 
are  neat  houses,  built  of  a  fine  white  free-stone,  generally 
one,  or  at  most  two  stories  high."  ^  Then,  as  now,  "the 
most  fashionable  walk  in  Berlin"  was  "in  the  middle  of  one 
of  the  principal  streets" — Unter  den  Linden.  The  entire 
city  was  "surrounded  with  a  wall  and  fortifications  in  the 
modern  way."  ^  Such  antiquity,  however,  as  marks  scores 
of  German  cities  even  in  our  time  was  entirely  lacking. 

Berlin  in  part  attested  its  claim  to  be  regarded  as  a  great 
center  by  high  prices.  Money  was  "a  great  deal  scarcer 
than  at  London  or  Paris, "^  but  strangers  found  "very  little 
difference  in  the  ordinary  expense  of  living."  ^    Something 




of  a  cosmopolitan  air  was  imparted  by  the  "vast  number 
of  French  refugees  at  Berlin,  insomuch  that  the  French 
language"  was  "almost  as  commonly  spoken  and  under- 
stood as  German.  The  partiality  shewn  by  the  present 
King  to  the  French  nation  has  induced  great  numbers  of 
the  inhabitants  of  that  country  to  flock  hither  every  day,  for 
which  reason  it  is  called  by  a  great  many  the  Paris  of 
Germany."  ^ 

There  was  as  yet  no  university  in  Berlin,  but,  like  Got- 
tingen  and  Leipsic  and  Hamburg,  the  city  was  a  center  of 
great  intellectual  activity.  The  Berlin  Academy,  organized 
on  the  plans  of  Leibnitz,  counted  notable  scholars  among  its 
members,  particularly  Lessing,  who  was  elected  in  1760. 
After  the  middle  of  the  century,  Lessing  did  much  during 
his  residence  at  Berlin  to  emancipate  German  literature 
from  the  trammels  in  which  it  had  moved.  He  drew  his 
inspiration  more  from  English  literature  than  from  French, 
and  along  with  his  Jewish  friend  Moses  Mendelssohn,  and 
others,  he  made  Berlin  widely  recognized  as  a  city  of 
"enlightenment."  To  the  great  Frederick  German  litera- 
ture owed  little  immediate  encouragement.  He  was  pas- 
sionately devoted  to  French  literature  and  incapable  of 
appreciating  the  rising  German  writers  that  have  made 
his  reign  illustrious,  but  the  political  supremacy  he  gave 
to  Prussia  brought  with  it  an  inevitable  advance  in  all 
departments  of  culture,  and  made  Berlin  a  city  that  no 
intelligent  tourist  could  afford  to  neglect. 

Very  different  in  type  and  history  was  the  city  of  Ham- 
burg.2  This  great  free  city,  with  its  mighty  fortifications 
and  its  picturesque  high-gabled  houses,  saw  every  year  a 
good  proportion  of  the  English  toiu-ists  who  visited  Ger- 
many. Its  wealth  and  culture,  its  commercial  importance, 
and,  in  particular,  its  situation,  made  it  the  city  with 
which  Englishmen  very  frequently  began  or  ended  their 
tour  in  Germany.  Strangers  found  easy  access  to  the  luxu- 
rious society  of  Hamburg  and  were  made  to  feel  very  much 
at  home. 

Hamburg,   along  with  Bremen,   had  remained  neutral 



during  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  and,  except  for  the  in- 
evitable loss  of  inland  trade  and  the  consequent  lack  of 
employment  for  the  lower  classes,  sustained  no  material 
injury.  In  the  eighteenth  century  it  carried  on  a  vast  com- 
merce with  all  parts  of  Germany  and  was  the  richest  and 
most  important  seaport,  as  well  as  "the  most  flourishing 
commercial  city,  in  all  Germany."  ^  The  inhabitants  of 
Hamburg  were  accustomed  to  deal  with  affairs  in  a  large 
way,  and  they  were  themselves  great  travelers. 

This  commercial  supremacy  naturally  involved  easy  com- 
munication with  other  cities  and  made  Hamburg  a  favorite 
starting-point  for  the  journey  to  Copenhagen,  to  Stock- 
holm, and  other  Baltic  ports,  to  Cologne  and  Brussels  and 
Amsterdam,  to  Frankfort,  Strassburg,  and  Geneva,  and,  in 
particular,  for  the  journey  to  Vienna  and  intermediate 
cities.  The  stage-route  to  Vienna  in  summer  ran  through 
Braunschweig,  Nuremberg,  and  Regensburg,  where  one 
might  take  the  market-boat  twice  a  week  down  the  Dan- 
ube, or  continue  by  land  through  Passau,  Linz,  and  Krems 
to  Vienna,  a  distance  of  about  five  hundred  and  fifty 
miles.2  Two  other  routes  from  Hamburg  to  Vienna  ran, 
one  through  Berlin  and  Breslau,'  —  the  longest  of  all, 
—  the  other  through  Leipsic  and  Prague.  Of  these  three 
routes  the  last  was  the  shortest. 

Tourists  entering  or  leaving  Germany  by  way  of  Ham- 
burg got  a  very  favorable  view  of  German  culture.  Some 
of  the  most  notable  men  of  letters,  among  them  for  a  time 
Klopstock  and  Lessing,  made  their  home  there.  And  the 
theater  of  Hamburg  enjoyed  a  European  reputation. 

With  Hamburg  we  may  well  conclude  our  survey  of 
Germany.  Some  toiuists,  indeed,  saw  much  more  of  the 
country  than  we  have  considered.  They  made  their  way 
through  the  towns  along  the  Baltic  coast,  —  Liibeck, 
Rostock,  Stralsund,  Stettin,  Dantzig,  Marienburg,  Kon- 
igsberg,  and  sometimes  went  as  far  as  Riga  or  even  St. 
Petersburg.  Incidentally,  too,  in  other  parts  of  the  coun- 
try, English  travelers  touched  a  multitude  of  places  that 
we  cannot  take  time  to  consider.    There  has,  therefore, 



been  no  account  taken  here  of  Aachen,  the  ancient  city  of 
Charlemagne,  one  of  the  popular  health  resorts  of  north- 
ern Europe;^  of  Hanover;  of  Braunschweig,  where  were 
"generally  some  young  gentlemen  from  Britain  .  .  .  sent 
to  be  educated"  there; '^  of  Regensberg,  the  imperial  city 
abounding  in  ancient  architectiure,  and  noted  for  its  so- 
ciety; of  Schwalbach,  famed  for  its  mineral  waters;  of 
Cassel,  of  Gotha,  of  Weimar,  of  Eisenach,  of  Jena,  of  Bam- 
berg, and  of  scores  of  other  towns  that  would  find  due 
place  in  a  systematic  guide-book.  But  the  ordinary  eight- 
eenth-century tourist  woiild,  perhaps,  hardly  feel  that  he 
had  been  defrauded  by  the  omission. 




The  trip  in  the  Low  Countries  might  be  taken,  as  it 
often  was,  as  part  of  a  short  circular  tour  by  one  who  ran 
over  to  the  Continent  for  only  a  few  weeks,  but  commonly 
it  was  put  in  at  the  beginning  or  the  end  of  the  long  Conti- 
nental tour.  The  Austrian  Netherlands  and  the  Dutch 
Provinces  were  in  many  respects  very  different  in  their 
physical  character,  their  type  of  population,  and  the  occu- 
pations of  the  people.  We  shall  therefore  do  well  to  con- 
sider separately  the  two  divisions  —  the  Dutch  Nether- 
lands, which  we  commonly  know  as  Holland,  and  the 
Austrian  Netherlands,  substantially  the  same  as  what  we 
now  call  Belgium.  But  we  need  not  spend  many  words  on 
either  division. 

Tourists  in  the  Low  Countries  appear,  indeed,  to  have 
done  about  the  same  things  that  tourists  now  do, if  we  make 
allowance  for  the  means  for  rapid  travel  now  at  the  disposal 
of  sight-seers.  In  the  eighteenth  century  one  covered  less 
ground  in  a  day,  but  in  countries  so  diminutive,  where 
comparatively  little  time  had  to  be  spent  in  merely  passing 
from  place  to  place,  the  advantage  of  feverish  haste  was 
not  evident.  All  in  all,  the  tour  in  the  Netherlands  was 
not  so  highly  esteemed  as  the  tour  through  France  or  Italy. ^ 
Yet  there  was  no  lack  of  curious  strangers.  In  the  first 
quarter  of  the  seventeenth  century,  Howell  tells  us,  "There 
is  no  part  of  Europe  so  haunted  with  all  sorts  of  foreigners 
as  the  Netherlands,  which  makes  the  inhabitants,  as  well 
women  as  men,  so  well  versed  in  all  sorts  of  languages,  so 
that,  at  Exchange  time,  one  may  hear  seven  or  eight  sorts 
of  tongues  spoken  upon  their  burses;    nor  are  the  men 



only  expert  herein,  but  the  women  and  maids  in  their 
common  hostries."  ' 

^  Holland  was  for  its  size  "the  richest  country  of  the  Con- 
tinent,"  and  the  Bank  of  Holland  at  Amsterdam  was 
"supposed  to  contain  more  treasure  than  all  the  banks  of 
Europe."  2    The  Dutch  people  were  notable  for  their  fru- 
gality.»  "One  would  think  they  suck  in  with  their  milk  a 
desire  and  thirst  of  gain.  .  .  .  They  are  given  to  drinking, 
as  well  as  all  the  northern  nations,  but  especially  when  they 
treat  their  friends,  which  they  do  very  elegantly,  tho'  per- 
haps they  save  it  out  of  their  bellies  the  rest  of  the  week. 
They  affect  to  be  neat  in  their  houses  and  furniture  to  a 
degree  of  excess;   for  they  continually  wash  and  rub  their 
goods,  even  the  benches,  and  the  least  plank,  not  forgetting 
the  stairs,  at  the  bottom  of  which  most  of  them  pull  off 
their  shoes  before  they  go  up.    Even  the  very  streets  are 
kept  wonderfully  clean,  the  servants  of  each  house  being 
obliged  every  day  to  wash  and  rub  the  pavement  before 
their  door."  ^ 

As  for  Dutch  society,  it  lacked  the  sparkle  and  brilliancy 
of  the  society  of  Paris,  Rome,  and  Vienna;  and  then  as 
now  comparatively  few  English  took  the  pains  to  seek 
admittance  to  it.  What  chiefly  attracted  the  tourist  in 
Holland  was  the  quaint  survivals  in  dress  and  manners 
and  architecture  that  met  him  not  only  in  little  towns,  but 
in  great  cities.  His  stay  was  commonly  not  long  at  any  one 
place,  but  as  in  other  countries  he  was  likely  to  make  his  way 
to  some  of  the  more  notable  cities. 

English  tourists  had  more  than  one  reason  to  feel  some- 
what at  home  in  Holland.  For  generations  this  little  coun- 
try had  been  a  refuge  for  Englishmen  who  were  unwel- 
come at  home.  Then,  too,  the  active  commerce  with 
Holland  compelled  the  presence  of  considerable  English 
colonies  in  more  than  one  seaport.  From  Rotterdam,  says 
Nugent,  "sometimes  three  hundred  British  vessels  go  out 
at  once."  ^  Here  were  two  English  churches,  and  "two 
or  three  English  houses  for  the  accommodation  of  travel- 
lers." «    There  were  enough  English  at  Amsterdam  to  sup- 

.  365 


port  an  English  church.    At  Middleburg  there  was  one  Eng- 
lish church,  and  at  Dordrecht  there  were  two. 

Most  of  the  places  that  claimed  the  attention  of  the 
tourist  were  the  same  that  strangers  commonly  visit  to-day. 
The  ordinary  round  in  Holland  included  Middleburg, 
Dordrecht,  Rotterdam,  Delft,  The  Hague,  Leyden,  Haar- 
lem, Amsterdam,  Utrecht,  and  Gouda,  with  a  possible  run 
to  Amheim  or  Zutfen  or  to  s'Hertogenbosch,^  and  Nime- 
guen.  The  eighteenth-century  accounts  of  the  towns  of 
Holland  seem  very  modem.  Holland  has,  indeed,  changed 
singularly  little  in  outward  appearance  in  the  course  of 
two  centuries.  There  are  now  fewer  walled  towns,^  and 
there  is  electric  or  steam  transportation  everjrwhere ;  but 
the  general  aspect  of  most  Dutch  towns  is  much  the  same 
as  in  Dutch  pictures  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

What  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  remarked  in  17 16 
continued  true  in  the  main  throughout  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury: "Sure  nothing  can  be  more  agreeable  than  travel- 
ling in  Holland.  The  whole  country  appears  a  large  garden ; 
the  roads  are  well  paved,  shaded  on  each  side  with  rows  of 
trees  and  bordered  with  large  canals,  full  of  boats,  passing 
and  repassing.  Every  twenty  paces  gives  you  the  prospect 
of  some  villa,  and  every  four  hours  that  of  a  large  town,  so 
surprisingly  neat,  I  am  sure  you  would  be  charmed  with 
them."  8 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  a  century  and  a 
half  can  pass  over  a  country  without  leaving  traces,  and  it 
is,  of  course,  in  the  towns  that  one  notes  the  most  marked 
changes  since  the  grand  tour  went  out  of  fashion.  To  a 
few  of  these  towns  we  may  now  give  a  word  or  two  of  com- 
ment. Rotterdam  was,  "next  to  Amsterdam,  the  most 
trading  town  in  the  United  Provinces,"*  and  "the  usual 
landing  place  of  strangers."^  "There  is,"  says  Nugent, 
"always  a  large  number  of  British  subjects  who  reside  in 
this  town,  and  live  much  in  the  same  manner  as  in  Great 
Britain?"  ^  In  our  day  Rotterdam  offers  little  of  artistic 
or  architectural  interest,  and  in  the  eighteenth  century  it 
offered  still  less. 



A  short  journey  by  canal  brought  one  from  Rotterdam  to 
Delft.  Delft  was  notable  in  the  eighteenth  century  as  "a 
very  agreeable  quiet  place,  being  the  retreat  of  wealthy 
merchants  who  have  left  off  business."  ^  The  memory  of 
William  the  Silent  and  his  tragic  end  pervaded  the  little 
city,  but,  apart  from  the  old  Prinsenhof ,  where  William  was 
assassinated,  and  the  chtu"ch  containing  his  tomb,  there  was 
little  at  Delft  to  detain  the  sight-seer.  A  writer  in  1743  com- 
plains that  most  tourists  are  so  much  in  a  hurry  "to  secure 
the  first  boat  that  goes  off  for  The  Hague"  as  not  to  allow 
themselves  "sufficient  time  for  viewing  so  considerable  a 
city."  2 

The  Hague  was  justly  popular  with  the  English,  who 
there  made  themselves  very  much  at  home  and  had  their 
own  inns  and  coffee-houses.^  This  city  was  noted  for  the 
magnificence  of  its  buildings,  the  width  of  its  streets,  and 
the  great  number  of  its  squares  and  its  shade  trees.  All 
about  The  Hague  were  "beautiful  coimtry  houses,  mag- 
nificent gardens,  fine  meadows  or  charming  villages."  * 
In  the  city  itself,  before  excessive  gaming  became  "the 
reigning  passion  of  the  place,"  ^  one  of  the  favorite  diver- 
sions was  to  "walk  on  the  Mall  and  to  watch  the  fine 

Fashions  at  The  Hague  were  very  arbitrary.  "People 
observe  forms  here  more  than  they  do  at  the  Court  of  Great 
Britain.  They  know  nothing  of  a  morning  imdress.  Were 
a  person  of  equality  to  appear  in  the  Mall  at  The  Hague 
equipped  like  his  footman,  every  body  would  believe  him 
out  of  his  senses."  ^ 

At  The  Hague  gaming  was  the  chief  diversion,  as 
was  the  case  in  most  of  the  other  capitals  of  Europe. 
"Those,  however,  who  do  not  play  are  not  thought  so  im- 
fashionable  and  ill-bred,  and  consequently  are  not  so  much 
out  of  countenance  here  as  at  Paris  or  London."  ^  The 
same  author  remarks:  "The  inhabitants  of  The  Hague  are 
more  genteel,  conversible,  and  civil  to  strangers,  than 
those  of  the  other  cities  of  the  provinces.  It  must,  how- 
ever, be  owned,  that  they  are  as  defective  in  point  of 



hospitality,  as  those  of  the  other  cities.  They  hardly  know 
what  it  is  to  invite  a  stranger  to  drink  a  glass  of  wine,  or  a 
dish  of  tea,  and  much  less  to  a  dinner.  They  excuse  this 
excess  of  parsimony  by  saying,  that  were  they  to  give  in  to 
the  custom  of  entertainments,  as  practised  in  other  coun- 
tries, they  should  soon  be  undone,  in  effect  of  being  visited 
by  so  great  a  number  of  strangers."^ 

A  characteristic  eighteenth-century  attraction  of  The 
Hague  was  "the  Spin-house,  or  house  of  correction  for  such 
young  women  as  have  made  a  false  step.  .  .  .  Everybody  is 
admitted  to  see  them,  paying  two-pence  to  the  porter."  ^ 
But  the  picture  gallery  which  is  now  the  goal  of  most  vis- 
itors to  The  Hague  had  not  yet  been  established. 

When  one  tired  of  the  town  one  could  drive  down  to  the 
beach.  Scheveningen  was  not  yet  the  popiilar  watering- 
place  for  The  Hague  and  all  Holland  that  it  now  is.  "The 
village  consists  of  one  pretty  street,  with  the  church  at  the 
farther  end  of  it."  ^  But  even  in  the  eighteenth  century 
tourists  agreed  that  "there  is  not  a  pleasanter  or  more 
refreshing  place  anywhere  for  coaches,  chaises,  or  people 
on  foot  than  the  sands,  especially  when  the  sea  is  out."  ^ 
The  great  hotels  that  now  overlook  the  beach  were  of 
course  not  even  planned,  but  such  accommodations  as  there 
were  anticipated  modem  conditions  at  Scheveningen,  in 
at  least  one  particular.  Hungry  sight-seers  sometimes  got 
a  meal  at  one  of  the  fishermen's  houses.  "The  largest  of 
them  stands  on  the  downs,  and  has  a  prospect  to  the  sea, 
being  an  inn  where  you  may  go  and  have  a  dinner  drest,  if 
you  like  to  pay  for  it  twice  as  much  as  it  is  worth;  for  all 
the  innkeepers  of  this  place  are  remarkable  for  large  bills."  * 
Overreaching  was,  indeed,  the  besetting  sin  of  the  Dutch, 
particularly  if  one  was  so  simple  as  to  trust  to  the  honor  of 
the  innkeeper,  the  postilion,  the  porter,  or  the  master  of 
the  post-chaises,^  and  could  point  to  no  recognized  tariff 
in  case  of  a  dispute. 

But  we  must  pass  on  to  Amsterdam,  on  the  way  noting 
that  Leyden  and  Haarlem  were  each  famous,  the  one  for 
its  university  and  the  other  for  its  great  organ,  its  pic- 

.  368 


tures,  and  its  tulip  gardens.  Leyden  was  the  largest 
town  in  Holland  next  to  Amsterdam.^  Leyden  and 
Haarlem  were,  however,  provincial,  while  Amsterdam  took 
its  place  as  one  of  the  three  greatest  cities  in  Christendom. 
"It  is,"  says  Nugent,  "certainly  one  of  the  greatest  ports 
in  the  known  world  for  trade,  and  perhaps  inferior  to 
none  for  riches."  ^ 

Notwithstanding  the  wealth  of  the  city,  coaches  were 
few,  since  not  many  persons,  "except  strangers  and  phy- 
sicians," were  allowed  to  have  them.  The  houses  were 
built  upon  piles,  and  it  was  feared  that  the  jarring  of  car- 
riages would  injure  them.  "There  is  a  greater  number 
of  sleds,"  says  Nugent,  "which  are  a  heavy,  unpleasant 
carriage,  and  fit  for  none  but  old  women."  ^  As  for  trans- 
portation on  the  canals,  it  was  not  particularly  agree- 
able in  hot  weather  on  account  of  the  fetid  odors.  The 
favorite  promenade  was  along  the  town  walls,  where  was 
a  "dyke  shaded  by  two  rows  of  trees."  " 

As  might  be  expected  in  a  preeminently  commercial 
community,  money  was  "adored  here  more  than  in 
any  other  country,"  and,  according  to  Nugent,  supplied 
"the  place  of  birth,  wit,  and  merit."  ^  The  wealth  of 
the  city  was  evidenced  by  the  streets,  some  of  which 
were  counted  among  the  finest  in  Europe  —  the  Heeren 
Gracht,  the  Keizers  Gracht,  the  Prinsen  Gracht  — with 
canals  down  through  the  center.  Already  famous  was 
Kalver  Straat,  in  our  day  one  of  the  busiest  streets  in 
the  world. 

Particulariy  notable  among  the  sights  of  Amsterdam 
was  the  State  House,  which  even  eighteenth-century  tour- 
ists criticized  for  the  lack  of  a  fitting  entrance.  None 
of  the  churches  was  remarkable.  As  at  The  Hague,  a 
favorite  sight  was  the  Spin-House,  "where  they  lock  up 
lewd  women.  .  .  .  Those  under  whose  custody  they  are, 
who  look  like  grave  and  sober  matrons,  permit  gentlemen 
for  a  trifle  of  money  (that  Dutch  god)  to  have  access  to 
them,  so  as  to  speak  to  one  another  through  the  grates; 
on  which  occasion  it  is  customary  for  them  to  entertain 



their  visitors  with  such  abominable  discourses  and  in- 
decent actions  as  are  shocking  to  men  of  any  sense  or 
morahty."  ^  "It  is  also  customary  for  strangers  to  see 
something  of  the  famous  Spiel-houses  or  music  houses  in 
this  city.  These  are  a  kind  of  taverns  and  halls  where 
young  people  of  the  meaner  sort,  both  men  and  women, 
meet  for  dancing."  ^ 

Besides  these  moderately  edifying  amusements,  the 
tourist  interested  in  art  found  much  at  Amsterdam  to 
occupy  him  if  he  secured  admittance  to  private  gal- 
leries, but  the  magnificent  collection  which  is  now  the 
pride  of  all  Holland  was  not  yet  brought  together.  All 
in  all,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  humdrum  at  Amsterdam; 
and  one  who  had  traversed  all  Europe  in  search  of  excite- 
ment found  Amsterdam  tame  in  comparison  with  Paris 
or  Naples  or  Rome  or  Vienna.  If  one  was  interested  in 
trade,  one  did  well  to  tarry  at  Amsterdam,  but  as  for 
sight-seeing  an  experienced  tourist  could  exhaust  the  place 
in  a  few  days. 

We  need  not  take  the  time  to  traverse  the  country  in 
detail,  but  we  may  note  that  Holland  in  the  eighteenth 
century  attracted  Englishmen,  and  particularly  young 
Scotchmen,  of  wealth,  to  go  there  to  complete  their  edu- 
cation.^ Commonly,  their  work  at  the  university  was 
supplemented  by  a  tour  in  France,  which  familiarized 
them  with  French  manners  and  French  morals  —  or  what 
passed  as  such.  For  higher  education,  particularly  in 
medicine  and  law,  Utrecht  was  famous  and  drew  to  the 
university  "a  great  number  of  foreigners,  among  the  rest 
some  English."  *  James  Boswell  went  to  Utrecht  as  a 
student  of  law  in  1763.  Goldsmith  was  for  a  time  at  Ley- 
den.  A  writer  in  1743,  comparing  Leyden  and  Utrecht, 
remarks:  "Dress  is  not  at  all  regarded  at  Leyden,  and 
rich  clothes  are  in  contempt  there.  In  Utrecht  they  affect 
more  politeness,  and  always  go  abroad  drest.  They  all 
wear  swords."  ^ 

A   short   run   from   Utrecht    towards    Rotterdam    en- 
abled  one  to  visit  the  old  church  of  Gouda,   with  its 



famous  windows,  containing  the   finest   painted   glass  in 

As  already  remarked,  a  good  nimiber  of  English  regu- 
larly resided  in  Holland,  but  few  English  tourists  made 
a  long  stay  there,  and  fewer  still  got  enough  acquaintance 
with  Dutch  to  converse  freely  with  the  common  people. 
Such  social  intercoturse  as  there  was  between  the  natives 
and  the  tourists  was  commonly  carried  on  in  French  or 
English.  The  Dutch  people  of  the  higher  classes,  we  are 
told,  "imitate  the  French  in  their  dress,  their  mien,  talk, 
diet,  gallantry,  or  debauchery,  but  mimic  them  very 
aiikwardly."  ^  To  the  Dutch  people,  the  English,  with 
comparatively  few  exceptions,  were  mere  birds  of  passage. 
And  as  for  the  reserved  English,  they  found  in  the  Dutch 
a  stolid  indifference  that  permitted  the  tourist  to  flit 
past  without  suffering  the  annoyance  of  excessive  cour- 
tesy. Among  themselves,  Dutch  families,  interrelated 
in  manifold  ways  throughout  Holland,  exchanged  visits 
with  commendable  zeal,  keeping  accurate  count  of  the 
obligations  incurred,  and  repaying  them  in  due  season. 
But  with  strangers  as  guests  the  obligations  would  have 
been  all  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  social  ledger;  and  to  the 
thrifty  the  returns  seemed  hardly  to  justify  the  outlay  of 
trouble  and  expense. 


In  the  Austrian  Netherlands  tourists  saw  a  good  num- 
ber of  the  towns  and,  particularly  in  Flanders,  founJl 
"the  inhabitants  .  .  .  more  polite  and  hospitable  than 
those  of  Holland,  being  an  open  and  freehearted  people."  ^ 
One  went,  of  course,  to  Antwerp  and  Brussels,  and  if  time 
permitted,  to  Ghent  and  Bruges,  to  Ypres,  Toiunay, 
Dinant,  Namiir,  and  Liege.  Especially  popular  was  Spa, 
which  might  almost  be  counted  as  the  typical  Continental 
watering-place  in  the  eighteenth  century.  Ostend  and 
Blankenbergh,  we  may  note,  had  not  yet  become  seaside 

Antwerp  was  noted  for  the  number  and  beauty  of  its 



churches,  and  in  particiilar  for  the  vast  cathedral  with 
its  soaring  spire,  the  favorite  subject  of  more  than  one 
Flemish  painter;  but  the  greed  of  the  Dutch  in  closing 
the  Scheldt  to  commerce,  by  sinking  ships  filled  with 
stones  and  by  driving  palisades,  made  the  city  a  dull, 
deserted  place,  with  grass  growing  in  the  streets.  Says 
James  Edward  Smith,  "Surely  the  inhabitants  have  need 
of  every  sort  of  dissipation  to  make  existence  tolerable 
in  so  gloomy  and  lifeless  a  town."  * 

Brussels,  on  the  other  hand,  was  prosperous,  and  was 
counted  "one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  brilliant  cities  in 
Europe."  The  great  number  of  well-to-do,  unoccupied 
strangers  there  gave  it  the  appearance  of  a  watering-place. 
Social  intercourse  was  easy  and  morality  not  too  rigid. 
The  inhabitants  were  noted  for  affability  and  politeness. 
Their  private  picture  galleries  they  very  courteously  showed 
to  strangers.  In  the  palaces  of  the  nobility  there  were 
notable  collections  of  the  greatest  Flemish  and  Italian 
masters.  The  water  supply  of  Brussels  vied  with  that  of 
Rome  itself,  and  the  "inns  or  eating  houses"  were  "equal 
to  any  in  Europe."  How  cheap  they  were  we  have  seen 
elsewhere .2  In  a  way  Brussels  was  a  small  copy  of  Paris, 
but  the  imitation  was  very  transparent  and  deceived  no- 
body. For  a  short  stay,  however,  Brussels  was  extremely 
agreeable,  and  whoever  toured  the  Low  Countries  included 
Brussels  in  his  route  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Very  different  in  character  was  Bruges,  with  its  silent, 
glassy  canals  bordered  with  huge  windmills,  its  decayed 
and  mouldered  aspect.  At  every  turn  one  saw  traces 
of  departed  wealth  and  greatness  —  in  the  vast  square 
once  filled  with  busy  traders  from  every  country  in  Europe 
and  from  remote  comers  of  Asia,  in  the  richly  adorned 
ancient  houses,  in  the  mighty  Halles,  with  lofty  tower  and 
tinkling  chimes,  and  in  the  immense  churches,  filled  with 
exquisite  works  of  art.  The  charm  of  the  old  city  was  felt 
even  in  the  eighteenth  century,  though  many  of  the  artistic 
treasures  of  the  medieval  period  were  not  duly  prized 
until  a  later  day. 



Another  survival  from  the  Middle  Ages  was  Ypres, 
once  a  city  counting  its  inhabitants  by  scores  of  thou- 
sands but  long  since  reduced  to  the  rank  of  a  small  town. 
Here,  too,  the  Grand  Place,  one  of  the  largest  in  Europe, 
the  long  Gothic  arcades  of  the  Cloth  Halls,  the  beautiful 
cathedral,  and  many  other  ancient  buildings  gave  a  sug- 
gestion of  the  greatness  of  Ypres  in  the  days  when  its  name 
was  known  beyond  the  seas. 

We  cannot  linger  at  Toumay,  with  its  sleepy  old  streets 
and  its  many-towered  cathedral,  or  at  Namur,  with  its 
famous  citadel,  but  we  must  give  a  word  to  Liege  and 
Spa.  Liege  was  noted  for  its  wealth  and  the  magni- 
ficence of  its  buildings,  particidarly  of  the  churches,  a 
reputation  well  deserved  even  in  the  opinion  of  our  day. 
Particularly  was  it  desirable  as  a  place  of  residence.  "The 
gentlemen  of  Liege,"  says  Nugent,  "are  affable  and 
courteous  to  strangers.  The  inns  are  very  good,  and  pro- 
visions extremely  cheap;  and  there  are  few  places  in 
Europe  where  one  has  a  greater  variety  of  better  wines. 
In  short,  a  gentleman  of  a  small  estate  cannot  live  in  any 
place  in  the  world  more  comfortably  than  at  Liege."  ^ 

But  as  a  resort  for  pleasure-seekers  no  place  in  the 
Netherlands,  and  few  in  Europe,  rivaled  Spa.  In  the 
middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  town  consisted  of 
four  streets  in  the  form  of  a  cross  and  contained  about  four 
hundred  houses.  During  the  months  of  Jime,  Jtily,  and 
August  it  was  overrun  with  tourists,  who  came  to  drink 
the  waters  and  participate  in  the  gay  life.  In  August 
of  1768  the  Earl  of  Carlisle  writes  to  Selwyn  that  he  has 
found  many  friends  there,  and  he  adds:  "I  rise  at  six;  am 
on  horseback  till  breakfast ;  play  at  cricket  till  dinner ;  and 
dance  in  the  evening  till  I  can  scarce  crawl  to  bed  at  eleven. 
This  is  a  life  for  you."  ^ 

Charles  James  Fox  was  here  with  the  family  party  in 
1 77 1  and  had  no  difficulty  in  dissipating  some  of  the 
paternal  wealth.  In  August,  1767,  Lady  Sarah  Bun- 
bury,  writing  to  Selwyn  from  Spa,  says,  "I  like  this  place 
very  much";  and  such  was  the  verdict  of  most  English 



tourists.  We  might  cite  a  long  list  of  titled  visitors,  both 
men  and  women,  but  for  our  purpose  this  is  unnecessary. 
We  have  now  completed  our  survey  of  some  of  the  most 
representative  of  the  towns  that  attracted  eighteenth- 
century  tourists.  The  list  is  in  no  sense  exhaustive,  and 
in  the  nature  of  the  case  could  not  be,  but  it  is  sufficiently 
extended  to  indicate  with  reasonable  accuracy  the  lines  of 
travel  most  followed  a  century  and  a  half  ago  by  those 
who  traveled  for  amusement  or  for  intellectual  profit. 




One  who  has  followed  the  course  of  the  tourist  as  out- 
lined in  the  preceding  pages  needs  little  further  comment 
upon  the  value  of  the  grand  tour  as  a  system  of  education. 
If  the  tourist  was  prepared  to  take  advantage  of  the  op- 
portunities so  richly  offered,  the  returns  were  of  almost 
incalciilable  value.  What  the  educational  possibilities 
of  well-directed  travel  were  we  may  see  in  its  influence 
upon  an  eager  young  tourist  like  Goethe.  And  he  was 
merely  an  unusually  brilliant  type  of  what  many  English 
travelers  strove  to  be.  One  naturally  thinks  of  Milton,  of 
Evelyn,  of  Addison,  of  Gray.  Many  EngHshmen,  doubt- 
less the  majority,  traveled  superficially,  but  as  a  class  they 
had  the  reputation,  not  only  of  being  the  most  numerous 
toiirists  on  the  Continent,  but  —  with  the  possible  ex- 
ception of  the  Germans  —  of  deriving  more  profit  from 
their  journeys  than  any  other  travelers. 

Even  to  the  dullest  dolt  there  was  something  in  St. 
Peter's,  in  the  Bay  of  Naples,  in  the  ascent  of  Vesuvius, 
to  stir  the  blood  and  give  a  fillip  to  the  imagination.  In 
general,  we  may  safely  venture  the  opinion  that  when  a 
reasonably  mature  young  man  of  good  ability  and  some 
self-restraint  went  abroad  with  a  tolerable  education  and 
spent  his  time  in  mastering  the  languages  of  the  Continent, 
in  becoming  familiar  with  the  art,  the  architecture,  the 
social  usages,  the  history,  the  systems  of  government,  of 
the  various  countries  he  visited,  he  could  hardly  have 
employed  his  time  more  profitably.  The  studious  and 
open-minded  tourist  enlarged  his  view  of  mankind,  learned 
tolerance,  discovered  what  was  worthy  of  imitation,  grew 



more  polished  in  manners,  and  became  a  citizen  of  the 

Like  most  things  human,  the  grand  tour  was  neither 
wholly  good  nor  wholly  bad.  But  the  young  tourist  was 
too  often  a  mere  unlicked  cub,  who  brought  to  the  study 
of  the  art  of  Florence  and  the  antiquities  of  Rome  the 
taste  and  the  manners  of  Tony  Lumpkin.  Naturally,  as 
is  the  case  with  most  questions  where  the  terms  are  ill- 
defined,  there  was  great  divergence  of  opinion  as  to  the 
value  of  the  grand  tour.  Tourists  differed  widely  in 
character  and  aims  and  attainments  and  signally  failed 
in  many  cases  to  profit  by  their  opportunities,  even  when 
they  escaped  moral  contamination.  Those  who  saw  mainly 
the  evils  were  not  disposed  to  minimize  them:  those,  on 
the  other  hand,  who  realized  the  humanizing  influence  of 
the  study  of  other  lands  and  peoples  stoutly  maintained 
that  the  good  results  far  exceeded  the  bad ;  that  those  who 
went  astray  on  the  Continent  would  have  done  the  same 
at  home;  and  that  sooner  or  later  a  young  man  must  be 
left  to  direct  his  own  steps.  With  this  wide  diversity 
of  opinion  concerning  the  influence  of  foreign  travel,  we 
cannot  safely  make  a  sweeping  generalization.  Not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  travelers  tended  to  follow 
beaten  tracks  and  that  they  saw  many  of  the  same  things, 
no  tour  exactly  duplicated  another  in  its  details  and  in 
the  impression  that  it  made  on  the  sight-seer. 

For  most  young  fellows  the  grand  tour  involved  a 
large  expenditure  of  time  and  money  for  which  they 
got  comparatively  small  return.  For  them  the  long 
stay  abroad  was  not  a  time  for  serious  study:  for  that 
they  had  no  taste  and,  in  their  own  opinion,  probably, 
no  need;  but  it  was  a  glorious  opportunity  for  a  long- 
continued  lark.  The  theoretical  advantages  offered  by 
the  opportunities  for  study  abroad  were  more  than  offset 
in  practice  by  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  carrying  through 
any  systematic  course  of  training.  High-spirited  young 
men  were  little  disposed  to  listen  with  patience  to  the  pre- 
cepts of  the  underpaid  and  low-bom  tutor  who  accom- 



panied  them.  Discipline  at  a  distance  of  hundreds  of 
miles  from  the  home  authority  must  have  been  sadly 
relaxed.  Going  abroad  as  young  lords  of  the  earth,  with 
abundance  of  money,  exuberant  health,  and  little  feeling 
of  responsibility,  they  put  a  heavy  burden  upon  their 
tutors  and  upon  the  courtesy  of  the  strangers  with  whom 
they  came  in  contact.  But  these  tourists  were- to  all  in- 
tents boys,  and  they  acted  like  boys.  At  the  monastery 
of  St.  Dominic  in  Rome,  relates  Breval:  "One  of  the 
Fathers  who  was  doing  the  Honours  of  the  Monastery  to 
some  of  our  young  Countrymen,  thought  he  paid  them 
a  very  great  Compliment  in  plucking  off  some  of  the 
Sanctified  Fruit,  and  presenting  them  with  it;  The  Reader 
may  imagine  how  scandalized  the  good  Man  was,  when 
he  observ'd  his  Strangers  soon  after  pelting  one  another 
in  Jest  with  his  Dominic's  Oranges."  * 


But  it  may  be  worth  while  to  put  together  a  few  con- 
temporary estimates  of  the  value  of  travel  to  the  average 
young  tourist  in  order  that  we  may  appreciate  in  some 
measure  the  atmosphere  in  which  he  moved  and  see  how 
those  who  best  knew  him  regarded  the  educational  product 
that  came  back  from  the  Continent. 

The  educational  value  of  the  grand  tour  was  for  genera- 
tions one  of  the  most  warmly  debated  questions  in  English 
society.  What  the  grand  tour  proposed  we  have  already 
considered  in  some  detail.  The  aims  of  the  system  at  its 
best  could  certainly  not  be  bettered.  They  involved  noth- 
ing less  than  a  mastery  of  all  that  was  best  worth  learning 
in  every  country  that  was  visited.  Positively  appalling  is 
the  programme  laid  down  in  some  of  the  books  designed 
to  guide  the  steps  of  young  travelers.  Only  by  a  miracle 
could  one  who  had  passed  through  such  a  training  in  all  its 
details  escape  becoming  an  insufferable  prig. 

But  what  was  the  actual  effect  upon  the  average  young 
Englishman  of  the  long  stay  upon  the  Continent?   The  an- 



swer  is  not  easy,  but  there  are  a  good  many  facts  that  are 
suggestive.  Scattered  up  and  down  eighteenth-century 
literature  and  works  of  travel  we  find  no  lack  of  criticism 
of  the  fellows  who  traveled  with  tutors  nearly  as  ignorant 
as  themselves,  learning  nothing  of  value,  and  spending 
their  money  with  thoughtless  profusion.  The  average, 
plodding,  conscientious  tourist  attracted  little  notice  and 
afforded  no  mark  for  the  satirist.  The  roistering  spend- 
thrift, on  the  other  hand,  invited  criticism  that  was  some- 
times extended  to  those  who  did  not  deserve  it. 

The  seamy  side  of  the  grand  tour  drew  the  attention  not 
merely  of  piuitanic  moralists  and  fussy  schoolmasters,  but 
of  men  of  the  world  who  had  themselves  trodden  the  prim- 
rose path.  The  fact  that  writers  of  very  different  type 
strike  at  the  same  evil  affords  added  proof  that  it  really 
existed.  The  substance  of  the  criticism,  which  though 
varied  in  source  is  singularly  alike  in  the  final  impression 
that  it  leaves,  we  might  present  in  few  words  and  without 
the  otherwise  inevitable  repetition  —  of  opinion  if  not  of 
phraseology  —  but  we  should  thereby  lose  the  contempo- 
rary flavor  and  some  of  the  point.  In  any  case  it  will  re- 
quire but  a  few  pages  to  present  representative  contem- 
porary opinion  of  the  value  of  the  grand  tour  from  the  time 
of  Locke  and  Pope  to  that  of  Cowper  and  Bums  and  Dr. 

Locke  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  life  on  the  Continent,  and 
he  presents  the  view  of  a  philosophical  observer  at  the  "close 
of  the  seventeenth  century:  "The  last  part  usuallyln  edu- 
cation is  travel,  which  is  commonly  thought  to  finish  the 
work,  and  complete  the  gentleman.  I  confess  travel  into 
foreign  parts  has  great  advantages,  but  the  time  usually 
chosen  to  send  young  men  abroad,  is,  I  think,  of  all  other, 
that  which  renders  them  least  capable  of  reaping  those 
advantages.^  .  .  .  But  from  sixteen  to  one  and  twenty, 
which  is  the  ordinary  time  of  travel,  men  are  of  all  their 
lives,  the  least  suited  to  these  improvements.  The  first 
season  to  get  foreign  languages  and  form  the  tongue  to 
their  true  accents,  I  should  think,  should  be  from  seven  to 



foiirteen  or  sixteen,  and  then,  too,  a  tutor  with  them  is 
useful  and  necessary,  who  may,  with  those  languages, 
teach  them  other  things.  But  to  put  them  out  of  their  par- 
ents' view  at  a  great  distance,  under  a  governor,  when  they 
think  themselves  to  be  too  much  men  to  be  governed  by 
others,  and  yet  have  not  prudence  and  experience  enough 
to  govern  themselves,  what  is  it,  but  to  expose  them  to  all 
the  greatest  dangers  of  their  whole  life  when  they  have  the 
least  fence  and  guard  against  them?  .  .  .  The  time,  there- 
fore, I  should  think  the  fittest  for  a  young  gentleman  to  be 
sent  abroad,  would  be,  either  when  he  is  younger,  under  a 
tutor,  whom  he  might  be  the  better  for;  or  when  he  is  some 
years  old,  without  a  governor;  when  he  is  of  age  to  gov- 
ern himself,  and  make  observations  of  what  he  finds  in 
other  countries  worthy  his  notice,  and  that  might  be  of 
use  to  him  after  his  return;  and  when  too,  being  acquainted 
with  the  laws  and  fashions,  the  natural  and  moral  advan- 
tages and  defects  of  his  own  coimtry,  he  has  something  to 
exchange  with  those  abroad,  from  whose  conversation  he 
hoped  to  reap  any  knowledge.  The  ordering  of  travel 
otherwise  is  that,  I  imagine,  which  makes  so  many  young 
gentlemen  come  back  so  little  improved  by  it:  And  if 
they  do  bring  home  with  them  any  knowledge  of  the 
places  and  people  they  have  seen,  it  is  often  an  admiration 
of  theworst  and  vainest  practices  they  met  with  abroad.  .  .  . 
And  indeed  how  can  it  be  otherwise,  going  abroad  at  the 
age  they  do  under  the  care  of  another,  who  is  to  provide 
their  necessaries,  and  make  their  observations  for  them? 
Thus  under  the  shelter  and  pretence  of  a  governor,  think- 
ing themselves  excused  from  standing  upon  their  own  legs, 
or  being  accountable  for  their  conduct,  they  very  seldom 
trouble  themselves  with  inquiries,  or  making  useful  obser- 
vations of  their  own.  ...  He  that  is  sent  out  to  travel  at 
the  age  and  with  the  thoughts  of  a  man  designing  to  im- 
prove himself,  may  get  into  the  conversation  and  acquaint- 
ance of  persons  of  condition  where  he  comes;  which,  though 
a  thing  of  most  advantage  to  a  gentleman  that  travels; 
yet  I  ask,  amongst  our  young  men,  that  go  abroad  under 



tutors,  what  one  is  there  of  an  hundred  that  ever  visits  any 
person  of  quality?  much  less  make  an  acquaintance  with 
such  from  whose  conversation  he  may  learn  what  is  good 
breeding  in  that  country,  and  what  is  worth  observation 
in  it;  though  from  such  persons  it  is,  one  may  learn  more 
in  one  day,  than  in  a  year's  rambling  from  one  inn  to  an- 
other. This,  how  true  soever  it  be,  will  not,  I  fear,  alter  the 
custom,  which  has  cast  the  time  of  travel  upon  the  worst 
part  of  a  man's  life;  but  for  reasons  not  taken  from  their 
improvement."  ^ 

At  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century  an  English 
tourist,  by  no  means  unduly  prejudiced  in  favor  of  the 
Continent,  remarks  upon  his  countrymen  in  the  dedica- 
tion of  his  book :  "Too  many  of  them  go  into  foreign  regions 
to  gather  their  trifles  and  follies,  and  to  forget,  nay, 
often  to  hate  their  own  country;  and  few  have  either  the 
means  or  the  capacity  to  make  those  useful  observations 
that  may  be  serviceable  to  their  own  reputation  or  their 
country."  ^ 

In  general  agreement  with  these  views  is  a  paper  in  the 
"Spectator"^  for  April  28,  17 12,  which  comments  on  a 
young  fellow  being  taken  by  his  mother  to  travel  in  France 
and  Italy:  "From  hence  my  Thoughts  took  Occasion  to 
ramble  into  the  general  Notion  of  Travelling,  as  it  is  now 
made  a  Part  of  Education.  Nothing  is  more  frequent  than 
to  take  a  Lad  from  Grammar  and  Taw,  and  under  the 
Tuition  of  some  poor  Scholar  who  is  willing  to  be  banished 
for  thirty  Pounds  a  Year,  and  a  little  Victuals,  send  him 
crying  and  snivelling  into  foreign  Countries.  Thus  he 
spends  his  time  as  Children  do  at  Puppet-Shows,  and  with 
much  the  same  Advantage,  in  staring  and  gaping  at  an 
amazing  Variety  of  strange  things:  strange  indeed  to  one 
who  is  not  prepared  to  comprehend  the  Reasons  and 
Meaning  of  them:  whilst  he  should  be  laying  the  solid 
Foundations  of  Knowledge  in  his  Mind,  and  furnishing  it 
with  just  Rules  to  direct  his  future  Progress  in  Life  under 
some  skilful  Master  of  the  Art  of  Instruction.  ...  I  wish. 
Sir,    you   would   make   People   understand,    that  Travel 



is  really  the  last  Step  to  be  taken  in  the  Institution  of 
Youth,  and  to  set  out  with  it  is  to  begin  where  they  should 

.  Incomparably  more  brilliant  than  these  mild  criticisms 
are  Pope's  famous  lines  in  the  "Dunciad,"  ^  in  which  he 
traces  the  path  of  the  brainless  and  dissipated  spendthrift 
through  Europe.  Every  stroke  tells,  and  the  picture  is 
literally  true.  Addressing  the  Goddess  of  Dulness  on  her 
throne  the  attendant  orator  of  her  court  presents  the 
youth  on  his  return  from  abroad :  — 

"Thro'  School  and  College,  thy  kind  cloud  o'ercast, 
Safe  and  unseen  the  young  ^neas  past: 
Thence  bursting  glorious,  all  at  once  let  down, 
Stunn'd  with  his  giddy  Larum  half  the  town. 
Intrepid  then,  o'er  seas  and  lands  he  flew: 
Europe  he  saw,  and  Europe  saw  him  too. 
There  all  thy  gifts  and  graces  we  display, 
Thou,  only  thou,  directing  all  our  way! 
To  where  the  Seine,  obsequious  as  she  runs, 
Pours  at  great  Bourbon's  feet  her  silken  sons; 
Or  Tiber,  now  no  longer  Roman,  rolls. 
Vain  of  Italian  arts,  Italian  souls: 
To  happy  Convents,  bosom'd  deep  in  vines, 
Where  slumber  Abbots,  purple  as  their  wines; 
To  Isles  of  fragrance,  lily-sUver'd  vales, 
Diffusing  languor  in  the  panting  gales: 
To  lands  of  singing,  or  of  dancing  slaves, 
Love-whisp'ring  woods,  and  lute-resounding  waves. 
But  chief  her  shrine  where  naked  Venus  keeps. 
And  Cupids  ride  the  Lion  of  the  Deeps; 
Where,  eas'd  of  Fleets,  the  Adriatic  main 
Wafts  the  smooth  Eunuch  and  enamour'd  swain. 
Led  by  my  hand,  he  saunter'd  Europe  round, 
And  gather'd  ev'ry  Vice  on  Christian  ground; 
Saw  ev'ry  Court,  heard  ev'ry  King  declare 
His  royal  sense  of  Op'ras  or  the  Fair; 
The  Stews  and  Palace  equally  explor'd 

Intrigu'd  with  glory  and  with  spirit  w ; 

Try'd  all  hors  d'ceuvres,  all  liqueurs  defin'd. 
Judicious  drank,  and  greatly  daring  din'd; 
Dropt  the  dull  lumber  of  the  Latin  store, 
SpoU'd  his  own  language  and  acquir'd  no  more; 
All  Classic  learning  lost  on  Classic  ground. 
And  last  tum'd  Air,  the  Echo  of  a  Sound! 
See  now,  half-cur'd  and  perfectly  well-bred. 
With  nothing  but  a  Solo  in  his  head." 



With  probably  more  real  concern  for  the  welfare  of  his 
countrymen,  Gilbert  West's  rather  dull  poem  on  "The 
Abuse  of  Travelling"^  presents  fifty-eight  Spenserian 
stanzas  of  mild  satire  on  the  young  fellows  who  ape  foreign 
fashions  and  foreign  vices.  He  commends  the  law  of  an- 
cient Sparta  that  forbade  the  young  Spartan  to  travel. 
Vagueness  pervades  the  whole  poem.  The  following  lines 
presumably  refer  to  France :  — 

"For  to  that  seminary  of  fashions  vain 
The  rich  and  noble  from  all  parts  repair, 
Where  grown  enamour'd  of  the  gaudy  train, 
And  courteous  haviour  gent  and  debonair, 
They  cast  to  imitate  such  semblaunce  fair; 
And  deeming  meanly  of  their  native  land, 
Their  own  rough  virtues  they  disdain  to  wear. 
And  back  returning  drest  by  foreign  hand, 
Ne  other  matter  care,  ne  other  understand." 

Of  a  very  different  type,  but  not  less  convincing,  is 
Chesterfield's  contribution  to  the  "World"  for  May  3, 
1753,  in  the  form  of  a  pretended  letter  from  a  country 
gentleman  on  educating  a  son  and  daughter  abroad:  "We 
complied  with  custom  in  the  education  of  both.  My  daugh- 
ter learned  some  French  and  some  dancing;  and  my  son 
passed  nine  years  at  Westminster  School  in  learning  the 
words  of  two  languages,  long  since  dead,  and  not  yet  above 
half  revived.  When  I  took  him  away  from  school,  I  resolved 
to  send  him  directly  abroad,  having  been  at  Oxford  myself." 

The  gentleman's  wife  approved  the  design,  but  urged  her 
husband  to  take  also  the  daughter  and  herself  and  live 
abroad.  The  daughter  joined  in  the  petition:  "'Ay,  dear 
papa,'  said  she,  'let  us  go  with  brother  to  Paris;  it  will 
be  the  charmingest  thing  in  the  world;  we  shall  see  all  the 
newest  fashions  there;  I  shall  learn  to  dance  of  Marseille; 
in  short,  I  shall  be  quite  another  creature  after  it.  You  see 
how  my  cousin  Kitty  was  improved  by  going  to  Paris  last 
year;  I  hardly  knew  her  again  when  she  came  back:  do, 
dear  papa,  let  us  go.'  .  .  .1  found  by  all  this,  that  the  attack 
upon  me  was  a  concerted  one,  and  that  both  my  wife  and 
daughter  were  strongly  infected  with  that  migrating  distem- 



per,  which  has  of  late  been  so  epidemical  in  this  kingdom, 
and  which  annually  canies  such  numbers  of  our  private 
families  to  Paris,  to  expose  themselves  there  as  English, 
and  here,  after  their  return,  as  French.  Insomuch  that  I 
am  assured  that  the  French  call  those  swarms  of  English 
which  now,  in  a  manner,  overrun  France,  a  second  incursion 
of  the  Goths  and  Vandals." 

The  father's  consent  is  at  length  extorted,  and  the  family- 
cross  the  Channel  to  Calais,  suffering  from  seasickness  on 
the  way.  At  Calais  "the  inexorable  custom-house  officers 
took  away  half  the  few  things  which  we  had  carried  with 
us."  On  the  road  the  hired  chaises  "broke  down  with  us 
at  least  every  ten  miles.  Twice  we  were  overturned,  and 
some  of  us  hurt,  though  there  are  no  bad  roads  in  France. 
At  length,  the  sixth  day,  we  got  to